


The Scientific Method

by ElizabethisjustaKitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drug Use Mentioned, Harry is an activist, M/M, Magical Theory, Mental problems mentioned, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Pining Draco, Post War, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Teacher!Harry, Unspeakable!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:42:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethisjustaKitten/pseuds/ElizabethisjustaKitten
Summary: Unspeakable Draco Malfoy gets assigned "The Curious Case of Harry Potter" and sets to Hogwarts to dig deep into Professor Potter's war secrets. He finds a lot has changed in almost 10 years. Most importantly, Harry Potter changed and his attitude towards Slytherins did as well.





	1. The Question

When Draco Malfoy became Unspeakable, it was mostly for the perks of mysteriousness and being able to disappear in the mids of the Department of Mysteries, without anybody else from the Ministry bothering him. They didn't dare. It gave him a sort of status, he came from persona non grata to person not to be messed with, not to be spoken off. Or to in that matter.

He had the required qualifications. He completed his NEWTs after serving a short, and not so sweet sentence for his war crimes. He came on top with the best grades, since Granger was long out of school with the rest of the "golden trio". They, naturally, landed the best jobs. Or Granger and Weasley did. What Potter was doing with his life continued to baffle Draco.

Harry Potter tried to disappear as well. There were the occasional tabloids spotting with headlines like _Hero at a stroll in Diagon Alley! - The-One-Who-Saved-Us-All cheers for Holyhead Harpies - Harry Potter gives moving speech on Ministry function_. Potter did his duties, attended all the society-required events he was supposed to and did all the mundane things he was expected to do. But that was about it. The little kernels of information were not enough, not to Draco, especially, since he became so tuned into Potters every movement during their years in Hogwarts.

Six years before Harry Potter shot down the warm spot he was offered in Auror training and build walls around him. The literal walls as he helped with rebuilding Hogwarts. There were occasional bits of information then, Draco even has a few glorious photographs of Potter from the Daily Prophet still saved, as he worked on the sun without a shirt on, his body glistening in sweat, moving debris and repairing fallen bricks. Those times were excellent, articles were flooding in, as the press was allowed within the castle walls, to help with their charity fundraiser for the reparation process. Potter used his charm and suddenly they raised the money in one day and then some to spare that helped to build a new magical theory research centre on the ground in memory of Albus Dumbledore. Draco thought back then, that it was just a way how the teachers clapped themselves on the back for good work and he was right. Especially Potter, since he decided to stay at Hogwarts and took on the Defence Against Dark Arts position.

Draco believed that it was just the temporary madness of Potter's when he got the morning paper with the announcement. He would bet all his fortune, that the infamous DADA position would be vacant within a year. He would lose.

Harry Potter was teaching his 7th year now at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, leaving the press -and Draco- dry.  
That's why his new assignment kept sending waves of equal excitement and horror through Draco, as he left the Head Unspeakable's Jenkins office, clutching a deep purple file protected with a confidentiality charm in his hand.

The last words Jenkins spoke to him were echoing in his head, as he walked the empty, sombre corridor of the Department of Mysteries:

_He was informed about our work and is ready to cooperate. You can head to Scotland right now, your travel arrangements have been made._

Draco stepped into the elevator, pushing the button to take him right to the lobby. He ignored the exchange of wizards and witches around him, didn't paid attention to the annoying memos buzzing around his head. Something heavy and cold settled in his stomach and was currently trying to pull him down. The purple file burned him in his hands.

He wanted more information about Potter, he long ago forgone trying to curb his problematic obsession with the saviour of the wizarding world. But while having the information would be ideal, he wasn't so keen on getting the information himself.

Now that was exactly what he was about to do. He was assigned " _The Curious Case of Harry Potter_ " as his fellow colleagues dubbed it. He was going to speak to Potter tomorrow.

Draco reached the fireplaces in the lobby. He needed to pack but was reluctant to step to the green fires.

It was surreal, the whole situation. Of all people him! Yes, he was doing some experiments on the case before, in fact, he was familiar with it to a pretty extent, since he made sure the Unspeakables working on it would keep him posted. But there wasn't a single break-through in 9 years. Did they expect Draco to make one?  
Draco sighed and took a handful of Floo Powder, reciting his address loud and clear. The green flames enclosed him and swallowed him whole. He had to close his eyes again, as he remembered the Fiendfyre in the Room of Hidden Things. He still had nightmares about that moment.

With the old scars reminded so painfully, Draco finally realised that he was, indeed, going back to Hogwarts.

***

When he apparated to Hogsmeade the next day, it was dusk. He couldn't sleep anymore, so he sent his things forward with a house elf and decided to have breakfast at Three Broomsticks. The small village didn't change much since he was there last in his sixth year. The High Street looked exactly the same, except for the all-colourfull and lively shop of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, that replaced Zonko's after the war. Upon closer inspection, Draco discovered a few changes, like a new chocolatterie that called his name, a muggle electronics shop, that boasted to sell "the finely tuned electro-magical inventions" and apparently sold "personal computers working with magic". He discovered a small coffee shop, that popped there. All stores were naturally closed, having only its fronts available for Draco to examine, but they seemed fascinating nonetheless.

When he reached Three Broomsticks, he was relieved to know, that despite the pub being quite lively in this early hour of the morning, Rosemerta was nowhere to be found. Only a young witch was serving patrons breakfast and solving early check-ins and check-outs from the inn upstairs.

He ate his breakfast in peace, not even blinking when a few people around him started whispering and sharing knowing looks. He was used to it by now.  
After a satisfactory breakfast and two cups of coffee, he decided, that trying to prolongate his arrival to the castle was futile. Defeated, he gathered his things and set for a walk to the grounds.

The castle greeted him, imposant as ever, with a few leaves already falling by his feet. A heavy feeling of nostalgia and fear settled in his stomach, as he neared closer. He could see the astronomy tower and heard the awful noise of a body landing underneath it in his ears. Feeling as if he was about to be sick, seriously considering turning back and running away, he made himself look at the Quidditch pitch and a warmth spread through him with the memories.

It wasn't a surprise, that McGonagall was waiting for him at the main gate. She scanned him whole as they exchanged greeting as if she was looking for a tell of evil in him. A tight smile, that didn't reach her eyes formed on her face, when she clearly didn't find what she was looking for.

"A house elf will escort you to your chambers, Mr Malfoy. We are very pleased to have a ministry official visiting. As you well know, communal lunch is at twelve."

As she departed and a small, very scrawny looking elf appeared in her place, Draco just scoffed. Pleased to have a ministry official here. He remembered the last ministry official on the grounds. She was lying through her teeth so much, he was surprised it was even possible for a Gryffindor.

"Right this way, sir!" chimed the elf and Draco followed.

He was supposed to meet with Potter in the afternoon and he didn't feel like spotting him before that, so he skipped lunch in the Great Hall and set to explore around. The castle looked very much the same on the first and even on the second glance. But Draco used to know a few of the secret paths, that were no longer there now. His favourite hiding spot behind a goblin bust was not there anymore and some of the walls had a slightly different, newer shade of bricks. The restoration unit did a good job, but not a perfect one.

He ate his lunch in the kitchen after 2 pm, surrounded by elves. He wanted to swear he spotted Dobby, but before he could be sure, the elf reluctantly disappeared and didn't come back. Or maybe it was just his mind, heavy with memories now, playing tricks on him.

As the meeting with Potter neared, he returned to his chambers, changed to something more formal (and impressive, if he was, to be honest with himself), changed his hair at least five times before he settled on wearing it loose, instead of slicking it back, like he used to do at school, and took the Ministry file from his luggage to consult in case of need.

The DADA teacher's office was on the third floor now, probably along with Potter's chambers. At least that was what Draco pondered as he knocked on the door.  
They opened for him on their own and unsure if that was an invitation, or not, he took a careful step inside.

Amazed and a little bit surprised, Draco found out that the office didn't scream Potter as much as he expected.

Sure, it was very homely and warm, with earthy tones and comfy armchairs instead of regular ones around the desk. But there weren't any flashes of scarlet, no lion heads roaring from the walls.

Yet it was a very personal office, with a desk, surrounded by three mustard armchairs in the middle. The whole room was enclosed with bookshelves and empty cages or trunks. There were some books, but it was mostly artefacts, that cluttered them. Draco's eyes dawned on a completely blank piece of old parchment propped against an old photograph of a red-headed woman and a man that looked almost like Potter, but not quite. Then he scanned a golden ring with cracked dark stone set in it, that was under a glass dome. So was a golden locket, that looked old and worthless. He found a pair of old socks, that each was different and looked hand made. The idea of Potter displaying socks was immensely funny. Then his eyes stopped at a golden snitch, that lied on one of the shelves, occasionally fluttering its wings, but not bothering to fly up.

Draco tried to poke it, but the mere touch scorched his finger.

"Flesh memory," sounded from behind him. He felt his body stiff under the spell of the well-known voice.

"What?" He asked like an idiot and turned.

"Snitches have flesh memory. That's why it won't let you touch it. It remembers me as its owner. Helps with deciding scores in very close Quidditch matches."  
Draco knew that of course, he did. He made his feet move towards Potter's broad figure standing in the door.

"Glad you agreed to meet me," he extended a hand to him, wowing himself to be civil.

Potter regarded his hand, then shook his head slightly in a silent no and strode towards his desk, settling in one of the chairs.

Draco followed him then, trying to regain his composure.

"So... you are working on my case?" Potter started with any dancing around the subject. Straight into the core.

His hair was longer and bushier, more curly than Draco remembered, and his glasses were still around, but with smaller lenses and thicker rims. As he finally brought himself to look into his the face, he found out that Hogwarts suited him. His face, usually a bit sunken in, was round, his jaw more squared than he remembered. And he probably worked out and ate like a normal person, because his lanky figure was gone and now he was bulkier and broader, in a good way.  
"Yes, we set up an investigation team to look into it after the war," Draco admitted, treading carefully with the precious top secret information.

"Ten years and you only come to me now," it wasn't a question, just a statement. Potter was grinning, something a bit malicious in his eye.

"I was told they did an initial interview with you when they started the official investigation." Draco reached for the file and started at the beginning, looking for the transcript.

"Did they tell you, how that interview looked like?" Potter scoffed and tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Eh... no?"

Potter stopped tapping and looked at him: "Do Unspeakables keep secrets even from their own?"

Draco finally found the transcript and buried his head in it, so he wouldn't need to look at him.

"It says they called you in, to the ministry. Asked you questions about the Battle and such...?"

"Look at the date, Malfoy."

Draco did. May 4th, 1998. He froze.

"They... called you in two days after?" he asked carefully, finally lifting his eyes on Potter.

"They called me ín the very same evening. I was at Mungo's and then I was attending funerals and had to go to the Ministry because they were afraid of me. Asked a bunch of invasive questions, the whole thing took 4 hours. It was like..." Potter stopped like he remembered who was seated opposite him.

"Like trial." Draco finished somberly for him and closed the file. He read the interview so many times, he knew it by heart. He never got the official transcript, with the date and Ministry seal on it, but he managed to piece things together over the years. The whole thing was fascinating, but some things didn't make much sense like Potter was lost in his head too much when he has given the statement. Now it made perfect sense.

"So much for celebrating, that ministry of yours," Potters said.

Draco finally lifted his head from the file. There he was the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, in a comfy chair, with a broken smile on his lips.

They sat in the silence for a moment, like they both lost the thread of the conversation. Then Potter found it again: "So did you manage to dig up something about it?"

"About this?" Draco knocked on the file and laughed: "I guess all the test were inconclusive. And of course, we are not going to recreate it."

Potter frowned: "I hope not, just for the sake of the experiment."

"You might think the Ministry is barbaric, with its methods, but it's not that bad!"

Potter just shook his head, amused at that statement: "I don't think the Ministry is barbaric. Not anymore, Shacklebot is doing a wonderful job."

Because of course, Potter would think that. Ministry now was more open than ever, with their new transparent politics, anti-corruption measures and inter-species programs.

"Then you know, why nobody talked to you before this. I mean, besides the initial interview. There were some small experiments with parents from various wizarding families and then we did some couples experiments as well. But nothing conclusive, no proof as of yet. So I guess they decided it's time to move this thing."

Potter watched him intently, as he spoke and it was a task for Draco to keep his voice steady.

"Why you, then?" he finally asked after a while of careful thinking. Draco froze.

"Excuse me?"

"Why send you? Of all people. They could send somebody neutral. Isn't this gonna interfere with your readings?"

"I guess they send me exactly because of our shared history."

Potter rolled his eyes and continued: "What, they think just because we knew each other at school, that I will tell you more?"

"No, the opposite. They have this hypothesis, you see..."

"I don't think I'm interested in their hypothesis." That startled Draco, because Potter sounded angry. For the first time, Draco pondered, if the Department of Mysteries might have been right in their hypothesis.

"Fine, but I must ask you some questions first, to start. Even if you don't want to know why I would appreciate if you would answer them."

That seemed to calm Potter down. He slumped in his chair, looking a little bit apologetic like he didn't mean to raise his voice. It was another surprise for Draco.

"Fine," Potter said finally, "Ask away. What do you want to know about love?"


	2. Hypothesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many questions Draco Malfoy is not able to answer about Harry Potter, but the most pressing and interesting seem to be the most personal ones. But he might just get a glimpse of how exactly he helped to win a certain war.

After that sentence, it all went a bit wrong. Mostly because Draco lost his train of thoughts when Potter's lips puckered around the word love. Potter didn't comment on his surely too long silence but remained composed and seating.

"Well..." Draco started and wasn't really able to finish it. What did he want to know about love? Everything from Harry Potter. He wanted to be finally recognized as a person worth his time, for once. But that was a simple fantasy.

"Love magic, Malfoy," Potter spat viciously, to remind him of the conversation topic.

"Yes, yes... Love magic, that saved you almost 26 years ago and kept you safe until it got broken when you left your mother's blood relatives. Could you feel it in you?"

Draco didn't mean to projectile vomit words across the Saviour, he really didn't. His nervosity got the best of him.

Potter looked at him a bit stunned by the sputter of words that suddenly came out, but simply said: "I already answered that. No, I had no idea I was even a wizard, so I had no idea about my mother's sacrifice."

"Right..." Silence again. Draco could kick himself.

"Of course, I fantasized," Potter started and Draco was surely certain, there wasn't anything about this in the file. He quickly pulled a piece of parchment and a Quick-Quote-Quill out. The elegant midnight blue quill started scribbling as Potter spoke and Malfoy got lost in his stories.

"When I was a kid, I used to dream about my parents. What kind of people they were, what they did for a living. How much they loved me. Maybe it was the spell, maybe that's what kids who lost their parents simply dream about. My aunt and uncle told me horrible stories about them or didn't speak at all. I didn't believe the bad things, something in me simply couldn't. So I made up my own. Ones where my mom was a veterinarian, taking care of sick animals all the time and my father was... I think it was a policeman. You see, even then I knew my father was a hero of sorts, or I liked to pretend..."

So Potter went on. About Rubeus Hagrid coming for him at his 11th birthday telling him the truth about his parents. He talked about what he found out, when he was at school, how his mum didn't even like his father at the beginning, how she was a friend of Snape's back then. About all the horrible and all the amazing things his father did. About that horrible night when Sirius Black told Snape about the Shrieking Shack and almost killed him.

There was a tenderness and affection when he spoke, even when he was recounting the bad times. He was candid in his recollections, which surprised Draco. He expected Potter to be reluctant to share anything. But there was a sort of longing in his words, a hunger for information, for knowing more about his past.

"You know, Dumbledore said it was old magic, not some kind of a new spell she just created. She didn't say any incantation when she died," he said finally.

"How can you be sure? There wasn't anybody but you and Vo- him in the room with you, if the information is correct." Draco asked. Potter went very still and suddenly whiter like he just relived something.

"I- saw the memory of it." He said finally. Draco just stared at him, expecting him to explain, but he didn't

"How is that possible?" He asked finally, his voice trembling a little. He wanted to reach and squeeze Potter's hand. Potter looked like he would crumble, with those green eyes suddenly glossed over.

"Dementors. If they get too close to me, I can hear her screaming, I can see the whole memory again. Dumbledore said it's because I lived through something so horrible and dementor magic brings out the worst memories you have, even if they are buried too deep."

"That's why you react to them like that?"

"Yes," he said truthfully. Draco felt the moment dawn on him. It was like a punch to the stomach. The things he did, the things he said to the thirteen-year-old boy that couldn't stand the dementors around him.

He wanted to apologize right on the spot, blurt some sort of embarrassing but honest truth about him messing with Potter out of jealousy.  Instead, he peeked into the file again, trying to bury his shame in scripts and evidence.

"So... Dumbledore was probably studying this thing before."

"Probably," Harry agreed and Draco was glad they agreed on something. It seemed to perk Potter too. Colour has returned to his face. He still fidgeted with his fingers in a nervous tick. Draco wanted to put his hands on top of Potter's and stop him doing that. It was distracting.

"Did he ever keep any records about it? Did he tell you the origins of that magic, or anything useful?"

This time Potter laughed and looked him carefully up and down: "No, he didn't. Dumbledore was secretive. But do you honestly think, that if there was any record of the information he dug up, I would give it to you?"

Dumbledore was a manipulative asshole, Draco wanted to say but didn't. He read the file and the countless interviews where Potter recalled what happened, how Dumbledore sent him on a secret mission, months on the run and the basically walked him to his death. He still didn't understand why it all happened, what were Potter and his friends researching those months camping in the woods. How did he survive the second killing curse in the Forbidden Forest? All these questions that the entirety of the wizarding world kept asking and they never got answers.

"You could request a talk with his portrait, if you wanted," Potter chimed in suddenly, which interrupted Draco's thoughts.

He just nodded, sure that even the portrait would refuse to speak to him. Truth be told, he was terrified to speak to Albus Dumbledore, of all people.

 

***

 

Draco didn't go for breakfast nor lunch the next day. Instead, he called an elf to bring him something portable and gone for a stroll around the grounds. The old caretaker was probably still there since his hut had a smoking chimney and there was a big yappy dog running around the garden.

He found one of his favourite trees he used to visit as a student - a big willow tree at the edge of the lake and settled under it, taking out the work he brought with him.

He re-reads both interviews multiple times. The first one is very brief, Potter simply answered questions and didn't go into much detail. He explains that they went on a mission to research the Dark Lord after Dumbledore's death and it all culminated in Hogwarts. He did mention their run-in with Snatchers and Hermione's quick thinking, how they took them to Malfoy Manor. Doesn't mention Draco at all, but that's okay because Potter talked about that as a witness at Wizengamot. Saved his life that day, or at least his freedom. Bloody Potter and his stupid saviour complex.

Later in the interviews, he talked about his aunt's home very briefly, just facts, that he lived there until the age of 11, then went to Hogwarts and returned for summer. They asked him about his stay at Burrow and he explained, that for renewal of the protection spell his mother placed on him, he needed to return there for only a brief moment. It's all information that recalls the deeds and activities, but it seems like there's a lot missing.

Draco remembers the scrawny kid he met at Madame Malkins all these years ago. He didn't look like a loved and happy child. He was almost vibrating with excitement, that is true, but there was something sunken and hurting on his face. A look, that he carried with him through school, some dark cloud resembling longing. According to this, Potter was supposed to have a home full of love he returned to every summer. But why stay every Christmas in the castle then?

 Draco took out the other interview's transcript and looked over it. This time, the words were much more lively. Those were Potter's stories to tell and he gave them to Draco willingly. For some reason, he wanted Draco to hear all of this, or he wanted somebody to hear all of it. Was Draco just convenient person to finally listen to what Harry Potter had really to say to the wizarding world?

 He took out a fresh parchment with a quill and began writing, as questions formed in his head: 

  * What kind of magic is love magic?
  * Can it be applied to other spells other than protection?
  * How did Potter survive the second killing curse in the forest if the love magic was supposed to be broken by then?
  * What did Potter and the rest hunt while they were in hiding?
  * What happened to Potter as a child at his aunts and uncles?



 The last question burned him most, even if it didn' have much to do with the actual object of his research. Then again, he didn't plan to give this parchment to anybody as a part of the official report.

He had a part of the answer to his second question. They did research with couples and families before and it seemed that some spells were positively reinforced by the love with which they were cast. But it never worked 100% and couldn't be proved, so they stopped the human experiment and deemed the whole testing inconclusive.

 Then the funding was cut and the test stopped. But that didn't stop Draco still obsessing over the case.

 

***

 

They met again a few days later, again sitting in Potter’s office. The cluttered room had an impact on Draco, as he became distracted with every weird item Potter owned. He wanted to ask about all of them, but he needed to focus on the task at hand.

„So where did we leave the story?“ Draco asked when Potter entered the room that evening. Draco was already seated at the chair.

„I believe, we were talking about my parents and the Marauders.“

„Yes, of course,“ Draco set the quill into motion.

„You know,“ started Potter suddenly, instead of continuing the stories: „It’s not fair that I’m the only one talking here.“

Draco startled and looked at Potter, not really sure where he was going with it.

„You know about my family, you were there during the trials.“

Potter simply made a face, that could be interpreted as trying to not say anything offensive.

„Yes, I was there. And I’m sorry about that,“

Potter looked rather grim. He was still wary around him, but by the end of the last interview, Draco thought they made some progress.

Draco gradually became more confused about Potter.

„You helped me and my mother stay out of prison, what are you talking about?“

„Your father,“ said Potter simply, fidgeting with his hands again.

The memory sting a bit at the back of Draco’s tongue, like choked up tears. He tensed, his hands curling into fists, but he made himself respond:

„The sentence was justified.“

That seemed to startle Potter, as he looked at Draco in confusion.

„I didn’t wish for him to die there, of course, I didn’t, but... he deserved that life sentence and me and mother both knew what happens to people with life sentences. They give up and wither away. The fact, that it happened that quickly was maybe better.“

Draco was looking at Potter’s rugged carpet now and that was why the hot hand on his shoulder startled him. Potter squeezed once and then let him go.

„I’m still sorry that you lost a parent.“

Draco was fighting back tears now. Being comforted and pitied by Potter felt even worse than being hated by him. Silver eyes met the green ones that were filled with sorrow. Draco wanted to punch him, just to assert his dominance and get a familiar reaction from Potter. Hate and spite were familiar. Pity and compassion were simply confusing.

„You know,“ he started suddenly, not really knowing why „For Malfoys, family was always the most sacred duty. I know, you might think we are just a bunch of snobby dark wizards prone to evil, but we do it all for family Potter.“

„I gathered as much. When Narcissa didn’t reveal me after I told her you are still alive, I...“ he trailed off.  Draco looked him over.

„For my father, the family name came first. He cared so deeply about the name Malfoy. Malfoys came first and they came on top, he used to say. So he pursued upmost positions. But I was never like him.“

Draco turned his eyes back to the carpet, noticing all the patterns in the curious thread. Yet he felt Potter stiffen next to him. He was still very tuned into Potter’s every movement and it was sort of comforting, finding that rhythm again.

„I’m more like my mother, or I think. We care about family differently, but it’s still very Malfoy thing to do. People come first for us. I always cared more about the members of my family, than about the name.“

„Draco?“

The word startled him. He never expected Potter to even say it, let alone say it with a note of emotion in his voice. Draco finally looked at him.

At that moment Harry Potter was beautiful. A shy, tender smile light up his face, even though his eyes were heavy with emotions.

 Draco didn’t know how, but suddenly there were two glasses of firewhisky –by the smell of it- on the table in front of them.

„I don’t believe I’m saying this, but we might not be all that different,“ Potter said, trying to sound casual and failing, judging by the embarrassment that flashed across his face.

He raised his glass and Draco followed his lead.

„To ragtag fathers.“

„To fathers!“

Their glasses clinked against each other.

Draco couldn’t believe he was drinking with Harry Potter, cheering in memory of his late father.

As the firewhisky slipped down his throat, it warmed him thoroughly, enclosing his heart in its scorching heat.

 

*** 

 

For the next meeting, Potter took him into the new research centre that was created as a brand new wing for the castle. Draco was smitten by the amount of equipment they had, almost as good as the Unspeakables owned, but this one was all new. There were wand analysers, magical microscopes, potion centrifuges. Anything, he could ever need for his work. There was even a Spell room, that was magic-proofed for testing of the more dangerous items and spells.

"We can start with some reading if you want." Potter started positioning a giant brass magic reader and plopped on a chair under it.

"If you are okay with it." Draco offered. Magic reading was a very personal thing if done on a person. It could tell a lot about people and their relations.

"I haven't done it in a while, might as well. We were playing with those when the centre was first opened. Hermione showed me how to use them." Harry gestured around at the precious machines.

"You just played with those?" Draco asked, almost offended by the idea of somebody simply messing with the expensive equipment.

"We were, eh, checking something." Potter suddenly wasn't meeting his eyes.

"Ok, then you know the drill. Stay still." He positioned the machine, two giant brass keys above Potters hand, holding the magical reader in place. Then he returned to the front and peeked through the crystal oculus at him.

There were two things visible almost immediately.

Firstly, Potter was glowing with power. Draco has seen powerful wizards under those things before, but there was something different about the aura that enclosed The-Boy-Who-Lived. It was shimmery, pure, radiant and very alluring. There were also glowing threads starting at his feet and running out to the world around him. Some were faint traces of still active spells, some were more prominent, probably his connections to people. Life debts, blood pacts and unbreakable wows were always very visible under any magic observing devices and as he very well imagined, Potter might have a few after the war. He was right. Countless threads were running around, simply disappearing into the walls. Some were moving, some were static.

But there was one, that was standing very still. It shimmered with slight sparkle like some of the others and like Potter himself. This thread, as Draco observed, was much more prominent in this very moment. As he followed its length from Potter, he needed to position the oculus right under himself and cold sweat surrounded him as he realized, the thread was connecting to him. Quite visibly connecting.

The second thing was, it was shimmering with tiny dots of energy like tiny sparkles were dancing around it. The same energy that enclosed the entirety of Potter.

"It would make sense we are connected," Potter said and interrupted Draco's silent freak out. Draco let go of the oculus like it burned him.

"What do you mean?" Draco didn't mean his voice to come out as high and strained. Yet it did.

"You saved my life, remember? In the Manor. Also, there's the other thing..." Potter trailed off, not meeting his eyes. He was looking at the space between Draco and him like he was able to see the golden thread.

"What other thing?" Draco's heart went still since he suddenly knew what the shimmery sparkling magic meant. It was all around the Chosen One. Everywhere.

"You saved my life," Potter said silently. Draco's eyes shot confusedly to his face.

"What? I didn't, my mother-"

"You did," he interrupted, looking at him earnestly "In a way, you can't imagine because your wand helped me kill Voldemort."

Potter held his gaze as he said those words and Draco was struggling to breathe.

"M-my wand?"

"Yes. I became its owner in a rightful duel."

"I don't understand," said Draco, his voice shaking.

"Let's start at the beginning. I don't want to talk about it any more than you probably want, but it all started the night that Dumbledore-"

Draco suddenly made a grab for his wand, that he wasn't even aware he did. It was pointed at Potter: "SHUT UP!"

Instead of reaching for his wand, Potter simply put his hand in the air in surrender.

"Sorry," he said with that devastating care in his voice. Draco felt his bottom lip tremble, as he tried to stop the freakout.

"I'm- Sorry, I mean. I'm sorry," he slowly lowered his wand and Potter lowered his hands but didn't move from his chair.

"It's okay, we don't need to talk about it," Potter said gently.

"No," Draco shook his head, as he was trying to get rid of the sudden tears that stung him: "I need to know everything."

Potter looked at him cautiously. Draco grabbed his wand and put it at a table far from them both. It didn't get rid of Potter's cautious look. It was pointed at him, rather than at the wand. He was looking at Draco, as he looking at a family heirloom that he dropped and was now checking for the damage.

"It started that night. You used Expeliarmus on Dumbledore and never returned his wand to him. You became its rightful owner.

What you didn't know, Dumbledore's wand was special. It was the wand Voldemort was searching for because there was a legend it had power. And he found it. But the wand never worked for him the way it was intended. Do you know why?"

Draco breathed hard: "Because I was the owner."

"Precisely. And when I took your wand that night at Malfoy Manor, I took those rights on me. So you see, I was the owner of Voldemort's wand when we duelled and the owner of yours, which I used to kill him. I won because you made it possible. I won because of you."

Draco needed to sit. He propped himself by a table by his right.

"You fought Voldemort with my wand?"

"Mine was broken," he said simply. Like it was the most normal thing.

"Wait... you have a new wand?" Draco asked, focusing on something else.

"Well- No. It's complicated." Potter smiled shyly and averted his reddening face.

"How is that complicated. If you broke your wand, there's no way to make it work properly again," retorted Draco.

"Well... there isn't if you don't also have a wand that can do more powerful magic," Potter smiled a dazzling smile as if the confession didn't just rock Draco's world.

"Do you have it? Does the Ministry know?" he blurted suddenly and almost cursed himself after. Potter's face suddenly darkened.

"No, I don't. I destroyed it so nobody can use it anymore."

"Oh," was the only thing Draco managed to squeeze out of himself.

" I bet I could summon it right now. Your wand I mean," Potter said hastily, after a few moments of very awkward silence.

"Didn't it turned back at me after you returned it?"

Potter just shrugged his arm: "Don't know."

"Also. Thank you, for the wand I mean," Draco said, after a moment of silent pondering.

"It was yours after all."

Draco smiled. He still remembered how an owl suddenly showed with a wand carefully wrapped in a scarf of sorts, that looked, that it belonged to Granger and a note. It was just after the trials and Draco was furious, that Potter sent such a precious cargo by an owl, but glad to be reunited with his wand. Trust Potter, to send anything by an owl. 

"Go on then, summon it," Draco said after a moment, his curiosity getting to him.

Potter reached out his hand and the wand rolled across the table,  suddenly shoot to air and he did catch it. The wandless charm was impressive by its power.

"Stay still now," Draco said and looked through the crystal again. Potter was shining stronger now, with the wand drawn out. There was something ethereal and beautiful about the image. The wand shimmered and pulsated with potential magic in his hand, connecting with him perfectly.  It was almost blinding, how much power that duo suddenly represented.

Draco searched for the thread connecting him and Potter. It was still there, still prominent and shimmering. Dozens other shimmering thread continued from Potter to all the different directions, but most of them went to a side, where Draco presumed was London. They all sparkled under the crystal's eye.

The second thing Draco realised, was that Harry Potter was well loved by dozens of people. So loved, that his whole magic was vowed by its power. He didn't have his mother's protection anymore, but there was something powerful in the way that the world loved Harry Potter and he did love it in return.

 

***

 

They ended up talking at the cold floor of the new wing. Potter summoned them some tea and biscuits and Draco was furiously scribbling his new founds on parchment when Potter started the conversation.

"You know, when Hermione looked into this whole little experiment of yours, she found some inconsistencies."

Draco looked up from his writing and blinked: "How did she get into our confidential files in the first place?"

Potter simply smiled into his tea: "She has her methods, you know? Some people simply can't say no to her."

"I bet," murmured Draco and continued his writing.

"Like Jenkins sometimes. You know, he asks for her opinions all the time."

Draco tried to remain as still as possible, to hide his surprise: "So he shares his findings with Wizengamot and Law office now? He is a terrible Unspeakable and even worse boss."

"He wanted her to lead a team, back when we finished our NEWTs, you know. She said no, said she wanted to create a better and more fair world for Muggles and Wizards alike, rather than poke into the dark magic all the time. I guess we all needed a break of dark magic after the war."

"Weasley is an Auror." Draco pointed out.

"He always wanted to be the hero." Potter simply smiled.

"So why didn't you follow him. Don't you two conjoined twins do everything together?"

Potter laughed and took a biscuit, "Didn't want to. I told you, I wanted a break. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't do it anymore."

The statement confused Draco and some of it seemed to reflect on his face because Potter continued:

"I wouldn't pass the psychological testing, you know. After the war, after Vol-everything, I was seeing dark magic and danger everywhere. I couldn't pass the street, without jumping on a loud noise. That's not a quality they want in an Auror."

Draco knew. He still awakened in cold sweat from the nightmares. The smallest things, like certain words and phrases, brought him back and made him relive all these memories of horror and months in a Mansion with that monster.

"I'm sure they would make an exception for The Chosen One," he said, but there was no more jealousy and spite in the nickname.

"They shouldn't. It would be wrong and I would just be a hazard. I could accidentally hex somebody on the street during a mission. I decided to take a break for a few months, helped at Hogwarts. Having something to do helped with taking my mind off of things."

Draco knew all this, but hearing Potter say it, he suddenly understood.

"And then you decided to stay here."

"Yes. Hogwarts was still my favourite place in the world, despite everything. The place makes me feel safe and I like teaching. I liked it even back in our fifth year, so it made sense."

Draco remembers the little group that Potter created around him back when Umbridge was walking those halls, "So that's what you were doing in the Hidden Room? You were teaching them?"

"Umbridge wouldn't teach us, so somebody had to. I was kind of bullied into it by Hermione, but I'm glad I did. They could take care of themselves after- during the war because of that. Most of them could, I mean..." Potter's smile suddenly sunk. Draco was again reminded how much he must have gone through in that year, how much they both lost in the war.

There was a heavy silence after that statement. Potter started playing with his hands again, fidgeting and picking on his robes.

"So I will bite, what inconsistencies Granger found?" Draco blurted suddenly with a challenge, trying to return that smile to Potters lips. And it did the job, a ghost of a smile hovered at the corners.

"Come to my lesson tomorrow at nine and I will even show you."

Draco was confused but agreed without asking any more questions. The allure of sharing some kind of exciting secret with Potter was too good not to accept.  They exchanged a small smile, that felt very intimate at that moment and returned to their tea.

Before they parted for the night, Potter thrust a set of keys into his hand:

"For when you need this part of the castle when I'm not around. It's usually not accessible to all students, so you need a set of magical keys to get in."

With that he departed, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the room, looking at the keys and back at the doors, mesmerized.


	3. Test Subject

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco sees Professor Potter teach for the first time and a few secrets are revealed.

He woke the next morning feeling jittery and nervous, which was ridiculous because he was going to watch Potter teach, not be tested by him or anything. And yet this whole setup felt like a test for some reason.

By the time he descended to the yet-still-empty classroom, something restless settled in the pit of his stomach. Before he could dissect the feeling any further however, Potter appeared in the doors that must have lead to his office, and frowned at him.

"What?" Draco asked. Did he do anything wrong? They were working so well together yesterday and now it felt like they were back at school. To be perfectly honest, they kind of were.

"I half-expected you to appear in something resembling your old school uniform," Potter said, but there was playfulness to his voice. Draco let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Are you disappointed I'm not wearing my emerald tie?" Draco nervously tugged at the scarlet and purple one he decided to put on. There was a gleam in Potter's eye as he was watching him with that predatory stare. Like he was waiting for a slip-up or a mistake that will strip Draco from his skin and reveal the evil that lied within.

"Pleasantly surprised more like." He finally smiled and sit on top of the teacher's desk, looking down at Draco.

"Your students will see you like this and they will laugh," Draco reminded him.

"Just because I'm not as a composed teacher as McGonagall and Snape were, doesn't mean my students don't take me seriously."

Draco scoffed and sat on a student desk in the first row. A commotion started in the halls, students slowly tricking down from breakfast to their first periods.

"So before we begin," Potter started and twirled a quill between his fingers. He had impressive fingers, somehow always jittery and moving, Draco noticed. The kind of fingers that looked strong and sure on a wand.

"I must ask you this question again," Potter went straight for the kill." Why did they send you? I was thinking about it and it doesn't make sense. The Ministry must know our history. It could compromise the whole scientist and his test subject dynamic."

"That's what you think you are, a test subject?" Draco was shocked. He didn't even plan to run the list of tests the Unspeakable office ordered him. He just couldn't, they were invasive and some of them so personal, he couldn't go through with it.

Potter looked at the quill in his hand: "Jenkins was pretty clear about the amplitude of test he wants you to do on me."

"So he talked to you about all that, huh?" Draco was suddenly nervous, his palms sweaty and cold.

"Yeah. I mean, I said yes already, but I didn't know you will be the one coming."

A disappointment must have flashed across Draco's face, because Potter suddenly turned to apologize: "No, no, it's not that I mind, it's just..." He trailed off.

"Just?" Asked Draco, a bit of bite in his tone.

"We know each other, Malfoy. We have a history. Can't that interfere with the results?"

Draco laughed, bitterly this time: "I bet that's what Jenkins actually wants."

"What do you mean?" Now it was Potter's turn to be confused.

"On top of working on the mystery of love magic, somebody -I'm pretty sure it was Abbott at one point- came with a different hypothesis. If something as powerful as love could potentially influence the magic of the caster in a positive way, what could an opposite influence bring to the table? Jenkins liked the idea and I guess he ran with it, that's why they send me."

"Opposite force of love?"

Draco just scoffed: "Yes Potter. As in Hate."

Potter's eyes sparkled with sadness as he said it and Draco felt as something cold squeezed his heart.

"That's awfull. You shouldn't be playing with magic like that!"

"That's what Unspeakables do, Potter. Experiment with it. They take magic, poke it with brass and silver shivs, mould it to their needs and want. And if the force is more powerfull than them, they get killed. Our department has the biggest mortality rate, didn't they tell you?"

Draco could feel the bitterness creeping into his voice and he couldn't stop it.

"Is that why you work there?" Potter asked suddenly, something gleaming in his eyes.

"No, it's because they wouldn't have me anywhere else. I'm an ex-death-eater. They saw the opportunity to get rid of me and they took it!"

 Potter was looking at him with those sad eyes, making him even angrier at the world. He didn't want his pity, nor his sympathy.

"Then why did you take the job?"

Okay, maybe he was lying a little. He wanted sympathy.

"Mother," Draco responded plainly, trying to look anywhere else instead of Harry at that moment.

"Did she-?"

"We needed money. They took most of it when we had to pay war reparations. All old families linked to Voldemort did. Most of us lost everything. And with the Manor gone-"

"Did they took the Manor as well?" Potter asked, surprised.

"No, you idiot, but would you live in that house after-" Draco's voice broke and he hated himself for it. Potter didn't press him to speak more about it, he just nodded in understanding.

"I guess that Jenkins cocked this one up then," Potter said after a moment of silent pondering and Draco's breath exercises to calm himself down.

"What do you mean?"

Potter just smiled at him, sliding down from the table. Draco thought there was a ringing in his ears, it took him a minute it was now ringing for the end of breakfast.

"But at least part of that might be true. The whole love and hate influences. Want to know why?"

Doors behind Draco opened and students started entering. There were surprised whispers behind his back, but Draco didn't dare take his eyes off Potter.

"Why?"

"Be a good student for once and sit in the back. I will explain it all." Potter winked at him and turned to address the class. Freaking Harry Potter winked at him!

 Draco curled his hands into fists as he walked at the back of the classroom, trying not to convey how shaken that interaction left him. There were whispers, some of them not so silent all over the class. He knew some of the students around might have already guessed who he is, but somehow he didn't mind that much.

 

He waited for the whole class to sit until he took a free desk at the back. He got out his midnight blue quill and a fresh parchment.

"As you might already noticed, we have a very special guest with us for this lesson," Potter began, addressing the class. He was teaching third years of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins today. Draco didn't fail to notice, there were a lot less Slytherins than there was when he used to go to school.

"Draco Malfoy, a researcher for the Department of Mysteries from the Ministry of Magic will be joining us for this lesson."

A couple of hands shot up, Draco didn't doubt in fear that they were being tested somehow. Potter just smiled kindly.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions for Mr Malfoy, but I will let you ask them at the end of the lesson. You will have to earn them like points in this lesson. Each correct spell or answer earns you one questions," Potter shot him a look as if he was asking if that was ok with Draco. He just nodded and the couple of kids hands slid down.

"Fine, who can tell me what I promised to teach you this lesson?" Harry had a bemused smile on his lips. Almost all the hands went up.

"Jeremy?" It didn't surprise Draco he was addressing the students by their first names. It was Potter, really, nothing would surprise him.

"You promised to teach us how to get rid of the boggart and the spell Ridikullus." The Hufflepuff boy answered.

"Precisely. Take 10 points and Hufflepuff has one questions for Mr Malfoy."

The first half of the class, they studied the theory. Potter showed his students the correct wand's movement and explained the pronunciation of the spell. He even started explaining from which Latin word the spell came from and how was created.

It should have been boring for Draco, sitting through a lesson for 3rd years, but he found himself fascinated by Potter, engrossed in explaining the intricacies of the spell to his students. He was right with thinking that Potter's hands were too animated for his own good. He talked with his hands, wildly gesturing around the room.

But Draco wasn't the only one engrossed in Potter's speaking. The whole class was listening with fascination, hanging on his words. Some were taking careful notes, some were simply staring at their teacher, heads in their hands, intently listening to the lecture.

"Now, that you have the information that can help, it's time to get some practice. Follow me!"

 

Potter led them to the doors opposite the ones, that lead to his office. There was a complete training room behind them, with dummies bearing targets on their chest, mats stacked in one corner, probably for stunning spells and a big wardrobe, that now stood in the middle of the room, rattling slightly.

It was as Draco was transported back to their third year when he faced the boggart with Remus Lupin. Potter even made the students for a line in front of the wardrobe, as Lupin did back in the day with them.

"Fine, before we start, can somebody tell me what's so different about this spell, than any other spell you learn in Charms or Transfiguration?"

There was a murmur between the students. After a while, tiny looking shy Slytherin girl raised her hand as the only one in class.

"Yes, Laura?" Potter smiled at her to encourage her to speak.

"We need to picture in our head the image and we need to want it to happen. Make it funny, I mean."

"Precisely, 10 points and a question for you, my dear!" Potter shot Draco a pointed look, as if to trying to convey, that this was the important part and he should start taking notes.

"Ridiculous is a spell where simple clear pronunciations and impeccable wand movement won't be enough. You need your imagination and most importantly you need the emotion. The happiness, the laughter!" another pointed look and Draco began to understand, what this whole ridiculous exercise was presumably about.

"To convey the spell, you must lace it with emotion. There's a handful of spells like this that we know about and they are the most difficult to cast. You don't need to have a perfect technique, but you need to give a part of you to the spell."

Then he opened the wardrobe door with a swish of his wand and a giant clown crawled out of it.

He made every single student try it and they did wonderfully. Spiders and zombies turning to ladybugs and rattling piles of bones, free falls turning into cushiony landings, dark corners illuminated by light. Potter's students were good, they seemed to understand the lesson well enough and when one of them had a problem with casting the spell, one of the others jumped for help, so Potter never really stepped in front of the boggart. In the end, by the time the creature was one more strike from defeating, Potter opened the wardrobe door again and let it retreat back.

"You did great and if I remember correctly-"

"You always do, Professor!" shouted a pretty Hufflepuff girl from the crowd.

"Yes, I said, if I remember correctly, as you so thoughtfully reminded Fiona, I usually do, the score is 10 for Hufflepuff and 7 for Slytherin. Questions that is. So ask away!" Potter gestured for Draco to take a step forward for the students.

Draco's chest swelled with pride since there was easily half as many Hufflepuffs as Slytherins and they still managed to get almost the same amount of questions as them. A number of hands quickly shot into the air, as Potter cleared the floor for him.

He picked the shy looking tiny Slytherin girl first, just because he kind of sympathised with her.

"What do you do at the Department of Mysteries?" she asked, her mousy voice echoing in the silent room. Draco smiled at her, trying to appear as kind as possible.

"Most of our research is classified, of course, so I can't give much detail. But in theory, we study mysterious and unexplainable objects and phenomenon and we try to come with some answers. We are kind of like researchers, you see."

Then he alternated between Slytherins and Hufflepuffs until Slytherin run out of questions. They asked about the Ministry, about research methods, they even asked how many spells Draco knew (the answer was not as many as he would like), a bulky looking Slytherin boy even asked if he is really THE Draco Malfoy. The last questions belonged to Hufflepuff and Draco granted it to Fione, the pretty girl that twirled her hair and kept shooting dazzling smiles in Potter's direction.

"Since nobody had the balls to ask this-"

"Language Fione!" boomed Potter.

"Yes, sorry professor," She batted her eyelashes at him: "So my question is: What exactly are you doing here?"

Draco smiled sweetly, trying to wipe that victorious grin from the girls face when she noticed Potter's frozen face.

"I and professor Potter work on something together. It's classified, of course, but we work on a project. That's all I'm allowed to say."

That's when it ringed and the class started gathering their things and leaving. Draco could hear another Hufflepuff muttering to Fiona what a waste of question that was, and he felt satisfied.

When they were finally gone, he turned to Potter, that was still standing by the wardrobe, hands crossed across his chest: "We do research together now?"

"I told you, you are not the test subject. If anything, we both are."

Potter regarded him for a moment, then sighed.

"Do they really think we hate each other so much, that it could somehow affect our magic?"

"They hope so," Draco said, meekly.

"Well, that sucks for Jenkins then and I will be the most unreliable test subject ever." Potter was looking right into his eyes and Draco could swear he was searching for something there.

"Why?" he asked finally after a moment of awkward silence.

"Because I don't hate you."

 

*

 

It was so easy to turn Draco Malfoy's world upside down. All it took was one sentence. _I don't hate you._

The whole foundation of the walls that he built around himself came crashing down, as Potter said it. _I don't hate you._ Draco wanted to scream. Scream to Potter, how come if he doesn't hate him for all the horrible things Draco did to him. Why wouldn't he hate him for the entire miserable sixth year, the one when Draco started hating himself.

Instead, he shook with a silent emotion, as Potter crossed the space between them and stood in front of Draco, hands now loosely by his sides, something very vulnerable in his uneasy smile.

"I don't hate you either," Draco managed to squeeze out of himself and it sounded pathetic the moment it escaped his lips.

"Good," said Potter determinedly and then sighed, like he just made a decision in his mind. Instead of stepping closer to Draco, he moved to start cleaning after the lesson.

Draco let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He made his eyes focus on the wardrobe, as he willed his whole body to stop shaking and focus. As he looked at the rattling closet, that very much resembled his own body now, he remembered something.

"How come you didn't step in front of the boggart and didn't show them how to do the spell first?" Draco asked.

Potter turned and sighed: "I didn't want to stress them. I usually teach the spell needed for my boggart for in the seventh year, even though it's advanced magic usually taught in Auror training."

"What the hell is your boggart?" Draco asked, worry creeping into his words.

"Take a guess." Potter flicked his wand and the door of the wardrobe opened.

A chill crept down Draco’s spine. The room went dark and cold as every happy moment drained from the space. Draco felt dizzy with the weight of every horrible thing he ever did. He remembered all the bullying, he heard Susan Bell scream in agony, saw Dumbledore’s body fall...

Potter stepped in front of the wardrobe and a giant dementor emerged in front of them. Draco could feel the seeping cold and horror creeping into his bones. He looked at Potter’s face distorted by pain and the horrors the monster must have projected onto him. His worst memories. Draco knew he had almost as many of them as he had. If not more. He was Harry Potter, he stood in front of Voldemort's killing curse twice. Of course, he had more...

Before Potter could even cast a spell, he jumped in front of him, right under its slimy hands to stop it. In the panic of the moment, he absolutely forgot it was a boggart and not a real Dementor. All he could think at that moment was, that he didn’t want Potter to relive the moment of his parents' murder ever again.

There was a moment of hesitation, as the bogart regarded Draco and suddenly the hands hovering over him were sleek and white, with a greenish hue and very long fingers. He felt himself shake with horror, as he lifted his head and looked into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

It happened fast after that, Potters hand on his torso, pulling him back and behind him, a murmur of a spell and rigid breathing, as the cold and fear returned before it was replaced with warm and light.

Draco found himself lying on the floor, cold sweat and tears running down his cheeks, his breathing all kinds of uneven and rigid. He felt this now very familiar compression in his chest, that slowly started disappearing, as Potter leaned over him, flicking hair from his face.

"Are you okay, Draco?" he asked with something resembling worry.

"Yes-" It came out strained. Draco tried to sit. He felt so angry with himself, the way his body reacted in these situations. Like it completely shut down, like he couldn't breathe and was convinced he was going to die. He felt like he was back at Malfoy Manor ten years ago.

"Here, have some." Potter sat next to him and offered him a chocolate frog.

"What are we, five?" Draco asked, a bit more roughly that he planned.

"No," Potter laughed "But it helps you feel better. I swear."

So Draco took the chocolate frog and nibbled at it. Potter was sitting next to him, silent. Their arms and legs were touching and the heat radiating from the other living person beside him comforted Draco.

"I have them too. You know, the fits of panic. They are triggered by different things, like a lot of people, or a certain person, but the outcome seems to be the same."

Draco looked at Potter, trying to find a trace of a lie in his face. There was only that sheepish smile and a shadow of the confession making his features softer somehow.

"I can't cast a Patronus," said Draco suddenly. As if Potter's confession needed to be answered with another one. Or because the dementor painfully reminded him of his own limitations.

Potter looked stunned for a moment, then placed a warm palm against Draco's bent knee and squeezed: "I will teach you if you want.“


	4. Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco learns to cast a Patronus and Potter reveals one of the big ones.

Somehow talking with Potter became a highlight of Draco's evening. They talked about their families, about Potter's friends and Draco's coworkers. They talked about Sirius and the most noble and ancient house of Black. They talked about Andromeda and Teddy, who Draco never met, but it was somehow reassuring he had still some family left in Britain. They talked about his mother -Narcissa, as Potter, would familiarly call her- a lot. Somehow most of their conversations stopped resembling interviews and simply became talks about personal things, politics and even magic and Draco's previous cases.

He found out they agreed on a lot of things around family, although they argued about politics a lot. Surprisingly, these arguments were lead in a civilized manner and somehow Potter always found enough arguments for Draco, to admit he was wrong about some things and the Wizarding world needed some changes. Draco also found Harry Potter had a few very strong opinions about politics and he was not compromising on them. Most of them were about inclusivity and the acceptance of Muggle technology, their world and about change by education.

The easy October somehow became crispy November during these night talks and Draco didn't mind the time flying.

Most of the transcripts from their talks now became simply useless and he couldn't show them to anyone, so he stopped taking notes altogether. He knew he needed to send a report in soon, but he didn't want to worry about it yet.

Potter also kept his promise, and one Saturday morning dragged him out of his bed to the classroom, to teach him the Patronus charm.

Unfortunately, this became a much more disagreeable task that Potter probably anticipated.

Draco was literally useless. Potter explained the theory to him million times and yet when Draco tried to focus on his happiest memory -that time one Christmas morning, when his father and mother were both for once at their table during breakfast and then proceeded to unwrap presents with him- it didn't work.

"Draco," Potter said frustrated for like hundred time one morning. They have been meeting working on the spell for a week now, "I need you to focus. Let that emotion seep into the spell. Become the memory, be the Draco from that moment."

Draco tried again and failed... again. Not even a glint of silver erupted from his wand.

"Fine," Potter put a hand into his hair in frustration. The dishevelled look suited him. "Let's try something different. Let's make an experiment."

"Experiment?" Draco asked. Potter was gathering his things.

"Yes, we will need the research wing for that."

Draco gathered his things as well and followed Potter through the deserted corridors. It was early Sunday morning and most students were still blissfully asleep.

"You know maybe you dragging me out of the bed in these unorthodox times might have something to do with me being pants at any spell so early in the morning." Draco proceeded to complain yet again about the times Potter picked for his training.

"Shut it," Somehow, Potter managed to conjure coffee from a thin air in less than a few seconds. He must have a direct line on the house elves, Draco thought as he accepted the warm mug. He stopped complaining as the warm liquid filled in the chilly feeling the castle corridors left.

They entered the wing and yet again Potter turned to the room with the magic reader.

"What exactly do you have in mind with that?" Draco asked.

"When we were tinkering with it with Hermione and Ron, we found a way how to project what we can see to the other person. We wanted to see how each other's magic looked like under it."

Potter started tapping the brass contraption with his wand. Draco looked at him, terrified that Potter will simply break the precious equipment.

"Stop worrying and make space under it."

Draco did as he was asked, then stood under the reader, as Potter positioned the whole thing on him and looked through the oculus. Draco suddenly felt naked.

Potter then proceeded to cast some complex spells around and suddenly a projection of Draco, shimmering and glowy appeared on the wall in front of him.

"It worked!" Potter looked surprised and pleased with himself.

"Why do you sound surprised?"

"I wasn't sure if I remembered the correct combination of spells," he said sheepishly and Draco bit his tongue so he wouldn't tell him off.

"Ok, now to the experiment. You are supposed to research the love magic that saved me. To understand it, you need to see how other emotion-driven spells work. We will not be casting the forbidden curses, of course, we already dismissed the hate-driven magic as not a part of this research. It wouldn't make sense with us."

Draco listened how Potter turned on his teacher's voice. It was kind of exciting when Potter used that tone.

"Instead, I think Patronus charm is an excellent example of a charm, that is charged with positive emotion and can be interesting to observe. If we can dissect that charm, maybe we could get to the bottom of the love magic as well."

Somehow, Potter moved behind him as he spoke and Draco could now see both of them glimmering and shining being projected onto the wall. Potter was shinier and looked so much more powerful, which was interesting to watch. The thick, sparkling bond between them was now more prominent than ever, being blown up on the big screen. It glittered and Draco hoped Potter will not interpret it differently, then their life debt that was still hanging between them.

But there was another fascinating phenomenon, that Draco had the moment to observe now. Potter glittered with all the love that accompanied him every day. That strange magic simply enclosed him all the time, like a rain of glittering stars shining through even the powerful magic he possessed.

But then there were the moments when he got closed to Draco and Draco shimmered a bit too. It was just small sparks here and there, but Draco noticed. And he prayed, oh so prayed, that Potter wouldn't.

Then Potter smiled at him and cast a Patronus, and the whole projection went white with light for a moment.

Draco was engrossed in the image so much, that he couldn't look away from it, even if the pure radiant light blinded him. As the Patronus took a more stable form of Harry's stag, the image settled a bit and Draco could make their magical signatures in it as well.

"So this is how a really powerful Patronus looks like under a magic reader. Yours will be a bit more muted at first, but at least we will be able to tell if we are making any progress." Potter let his Patronus disappear and the white light went with it.

"Now you try!"

Draco tried, watching now his own projection rather than focusing at the spell. He tried to reach to his own magic, trying to pull it to a corporeal form. There wasn't even a flash of magic when he made the spell.

"You need to want it, Draco. Want a companion, want to be safe!" Potter circled him like a hungry shark. He was looking at his body like it could reveal a mistake Draco was making. The fact was, any mistake he did with the spell was in his head.

"Imagine yourself safe, let the magic build around you to that safety, elope you. Better yet, imagine it like a safety blanket, that is around you," Potter was smiling at him and at that moment Draco lost any concentration he had before.

"Magic is not a blanket," Draco said mockingly.

"It can be. It's magic, it can be whatever you need it to be. Honestly, what do they teach you at the Unspeakable training?" He was laughing now.

"They don't try to compare magical surges to blankets, that's for sure!"

"My point stands. You need to want it so much, you actually give safety a corporeal form. It's old magic, spirit animals and guardians, you need to tap into it. It's the first step to actually find out the old magic beyond my mother's magic as well. Isn't that a motivation for you?"

"I don't think I have a problem with motivation. It's more-" Draco cut himself off just in time.

"Draco!" Potter was now standing close to him, looking at him with those fierce eyes. Draco took a few steps back, breaking his connection with the magical reader. He actually could feel his magic tremble as the connection broke.

Harry automatically followed him out of that circle of magic, stepping even closer. His emerald eyes were burning.

"Whatever it is, that you keep beating yourself up with, I need you to let it go right now." He reached for his hand and Draco flinched since it was his left hand he was reaching for. It was an automated reaction by now, something he would do to anybody. But somehow Harry reaching for his left hand made it all even more terrifying.

"Oh, Draco," he huffed a soft breath against his face. Draco flinched yet again, when soft fingers touched that place on his arm through his shirt, only for a second and then they were gone again.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said, looking at Draco with those green, hopeful eyes sparkling with compassion and pity. _But what did he know?_ He was not wearing an ancient curse on his left arm as a reminder of every vile, terrifying mistake he did. He couldn't still feel the clasps of coldness sometimes quench his arm when he was in the presence of the darkest of magic. He didn't relinquish his power and will to a cursed mark on his arm.

Draco didn't speak, instead, he stepped to the side, away from Harry, his wand ready to cast again.

"I will hook it back up, give me a second," Potter said, his voice suddenly flat.

Draco waited for Potter to cast the spells, before trying it again.

And again.

_And again._

Potter was back to circling him, like a lion circling his prey. It sent a chill down Draco's back and did a number on his concentration. He could feel Potter's every move, hear the soft rustle of his robes and all Draco could think about was the faint, wood and must-infused smell that was Potter himself.

"I think you need a better memory, it's not showing anything." Potter clasped a hand on his shoulder and at that moment something glimmered at the projection. Draco watched with horror as his whole body started shimmering as Potter touched him.

"That was good, what did you think about?!" The hand was gone and the glimmer with it.

Draco turned from Potter, thinking hard about a convenient lie, because truth was, he wasn't thinking anything. It was all him. Potter. Harry bloody Potter. The-Boy-Who-Saved-WIzarding-World. The-Man-Draco-Malfoy-Was-Now-Ireversably-In-Love-With.  He was so royally f-ed up now.

It was hard to admit but harder to see it projected like this. His own magic betraying him, it wasn’t fair. He desperately wished Potter wouldn’t figure it out.

„Personal, right. Just.. keep it up, whatever you were doing?“ Potter seemed to back up a little after Draco went silent with worry.

He encouraged him to try once more with a gesture. So Draco did. He thought about those stolen glances, all the pieces of information he gathered over the years, the hours of silently watching Potter simply exist. He thought about Quidditch and those moments where he was in the air, simply free and happy with Potter flying next to him, chasing after a snitch. Thought about Harry’s face when he got up on a broomstick, how happy it made him. About all the Quidditch matches chasing after him, always few feet behind, losing to him and watching him be happy. Truth was, Draco was a bloody good seeker, but there was something about the thrill of Potter- Harry winning over him.

He cast the spell again, more whispering it than shouting bravely at the invisible enemy.

„Good, yes, perfect, keep it on...!“

Potter’s excited screams made him open his eyes and look around. There was only a faint glimmer of silver around him, but if he looked at the projection, his whole wand was pulsating with that bright light.

It only lasted a couple of seconds and then the silver gleam was gone.

„That was really good, Draco.“ Potter now took a step closer to him, making Draco’s image in the projector sparkle once more.

„Let’s take a break for today, just keep practising and you will be able to cast a fully formed Patronus in no time!“

Draco wasn’t really sure he wanted to anymore.

 

***

 

As the loud knock echoed through his chambers a few days later, Draco wondered who could dare to disturb his peace. He gathered himself from the sofa, where he was currently engorged in a book and considered, if it would be rude to leave whoever was disturbing his peace wait a little longer, to throw robes on himself. Finally, he decided against it and opened the door.

Potter was standing at the opposite side of it, two glasses and a bottle of firewhisky in his hand, smiling radiantly. He was wearing his robes, but Draco could tell he had his muggle jeans underneath it.

"It's before dinner?" Draco spat instead of a hello. He would argue it was absolutely called for, the way he reacted to Potter's several-hours-early turn up at his door.

"Yep," Potter said simply and slid along Draco inside the room.

"Didn't we say eight o'clock?" Draco was confused.

"I have a proposition for you," by the time Draco was able to move from the empty doors, Potter was already sitting on his sofa. Draco sat at the armchair opposite him.

"You come here, bringing alcohol and propositions. You realise I'm not a Weaslette?"  It came out ruder than Draco intended. He was only trying to poke fun at the Man-That-Did-Not-Date-Anymore (at least that's what Witch Weekly called him lately, not having enough information about the Saviour's love life since he disappeared from the public eye).

Potter's smug smile faltered a little, but it didn't disappear altogether:

"I would never try giving Ginny propositions while drinking. It's dangerous. She would drink me under the table."

Draco smiled or tried to. The way Potter talked about his friends, with the easiness and a hint of affection in his features. He kind of all over softened when he mentioned them. It made Draco uneasy.

"So why are you here?" he asked, finally, trying to change the subject.

"You go to dinner with me today and I answer one of the big ones."

Draco's heart did a little dance in his ribcage and he summoned all his willpower to keep his features neutral.

"Dinner?"

"At the Great Hall," said Potter with that dazzling smile. Suddenly, Draco wanted to scratch that smile away with his bare hands.

"Oh," he said simply, distantly aware that his own expression must have faltered.

"Draco, you have been cooped up in here for how long?" asked Potter, continuing without waiting for an answer: "The only person you talk to is me, and usually it's me who is doing the talking!"

"That's because you are the subject of my research," said Draco pragmatically. It wasn’t true, not anymore.

Potter sighed and poured them a drink. Draco reluctantly accepted the glass from him, squinting at the alcohol.

"I mean it. It's not just here, is it?"

Now it seemed like a question, but one Draco didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

Harry sighed, putting his glass down for a second, leaving Draco awkwardly holding his, waiting for a signal to drink it.

"I mean back in London. In your job. I know you must communicate with your colleagues, or at least Jenkins, but I know for a fact that you are not speaking to anybody else at the Ministry. Your friends haven't seen you in months, some years!"

"How... do you know all this?" Has Potter been spying on him, just like Draco tried it with him and failed? How was he always better at things? 

"Look, I talked to Pansy, all right," Potter pinched the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. The act lifted his speckles a bit up, tangling them into Potter's hair. It would be funny if Draco wasn't the one being chastised just now.

"Pansy?" the information somehow refused to penetrate his mind.

"Parkinson. Or Nott now, I suppose."

"Since when do you talk with Parkinson?" Draco asked, panic rising inside him.

"We see each other once in a while. She has a child the same age as Hermione does. They  are friends now, you know?"

Draco didn’t. He looked confused at Potter. He had no idea Pansy already had a child. He knew, of course, that Granger had. It was in the same issue of one tabloid or other, where rare candid photos of Potter popped up. He looked annoyed at the reporters while walking down Saint Mungo's.

"To exactly how many Slytherin's have you talked about this issue?" he asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Only Pans and Blaise." Potter smiled innocently.

"Zabini? Didn't he fled to the muggle world to get away from the press?"

Potter sighed and finally took hold of his glass again.

"Look, I reached out a bit after the war, after I... I came to terms with some things. Blaise and Pansy responded and we keep in touch."

"How are they doing?" asked Draco, defeated. Truth was, he missed them terribly. Blaise simply disappeared and Draco had no means to contact him and Pansy- He still felt guilty for not responding to a couple of her letter when he was on a particularly bad spot.

Harry smiled at him, clinging his glass against Draco's, that was still in his hand. He took a sip and Draco followed.

"They are both good. Pansy has a handful with the little one. Blaise has a muggle boyfriend."

Draco's eyes widened since he didn't expect Potter to know about that. All the intimate details, the biggest secrets. They told him, and Draco had no idea they were so close. Did Blaise tell him everything?

"You know, it's perfectly normal in the muggle world. Blaise explained that it's some kind of a taboo, or it used to be, in the old wizarding families. I think that's why he is hiding in the muggle world as well. But he is happy, and he is out there and doing good."

Potter interpreted his wide-eyed stare as bigotry. Great. Excellent.

"He... I... Could you maybe put me in contact with him?"

It felt a bit like a cry for help. He had no right to ask Potter for anything. But it had its effect, Potter suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I will give you his number, of course, I will!" He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill with a wave of his hand. Draco wasn't sure he would ever get used to the easiness of Potter's wandless magic.

Then he proceeded to scribble unknown, nothing-telling numbers to the parchment and gave it to him.

"Er... thanks?"

"Yeah, sorry." Potter shook his head: "Purebloods, I forgotten. You can use my phone later in Hogsmead, unfortunately, Minerva still refuses to let the mobile signal into the wards in case it interferes with the magic too much."

Draco didn't understand but that was okay because Potter mentioned Hogsmead and Draco coming with him. The image it conjured was too lovely to dismiss.

"So dinner? With us?" Potter sipped from his drink and Draco followed.

"What will you tell me in return?" Draco asked instead.

"Whatever you want." Potter's smile darkened a bit, in that sly way. He was winning and he knew it.

"I want to know what you did during the hiding after our sixth year."

Potter seemed to consider this, looking into the remaining liquid in his glass: "That's really a big one."

"Take it or leave me to my book," Draco tried to make his expression a little threatening like he was really going to let Potter leave this room without him.

"Fine," he said finally and finished his drink in one giant gulp. Draco watched his adam's apple bob and then followed suit with his own glass.

"Now go get your robes. I might be appreciating the skinny black trousers and a finely threaded silk shirt, but I don't suppose Minerva will.“

Draco choked on the whisky a little, as a warm tingling settled in his cheeks. He told himself it was from the big amount of alcohol that was supposed to be sipped and not shot. Definitely not flustered from the backhanded compliment.

 

***

 

They walked into the Great Hall late and Draco was surprised nobody was paying them any attention. The teachers were deep in conversations among each other and the students seemed cheery and loud as ever, entertaining themselves at their tables. He attracted a glance or two, but that was it.

Harry lead Draco to the far end of the teacher's table and sat him down at the very end. Then he took his seat between him and Longbottom. They exchanged pleasantries and the new Herbology professor even waved in Draco's direction, before returning to his plate.

Draco turned his gaze to the food in front of them, as his senses got overwhelmed by the familiar dishes in front of him. The delicious smells were overpowering and just now he realized how much he missed Hogwarts food and all the smells mixing together.

Another surprise was the fact, that teachers had wine served in their goblets during dinner. He found out only after Potter raised his next to him and they clinked them softly, Draco taking a bigger gulp that he would if he knew that it was alcohol. It resulted in a very misfortunate moment, where Draco's eyes watered, as he forced the liquid down his throat and swallowed. He noticed Potter's smirk and the gaze, that followed his every move after that. Draco decided to hide in his food.

He only emerged when dessert was served, finishing three courses already, but always finding a spot for chocolate éclairs that the house elves made here.

He also spotted Potter's favourite Treacle tarts and almost told him so, before remembering he wasn't supposed to know that. But surely, it wasn't his fault Potter was so freaking obvious during their meals in Hogwarts and basically inhaled these things as they appeared, right?

Potter was now deep in conversation with Longbottom, something about marriage proposals and Luna Lovegood, which baffled Draco, that they discussed it so freely at the table. In his family, proposals weren't discussed before they happened. Or were, but only by respective parents of the groom and bride-to-be and sometimes even without their children knowing. A lot has changed in the wizarding world since the war ended.

"So what about you?" asked Longbottom and Draco perked a little, but continued with his chocolate goodness of a dessert, pretending he wasn't listening one bit.

"Oh you know," Draco could hear the smug smile in Potter's tone: "Always a content bachelor."

"I bet!" Longbottom said with similar smugness and punched Potter playfully. Draco could see from a corner of his eye they were now grinning madly at each other and exchanged a few winks.

Confused by the conversation he wasn't supposed to overhear anyway, Draco searched the table for another éclair, disappointed that the only ones left were the ones at the other end of the table.

"Here!" Potter suddenly waved a hand and one of the éclairs floated to Draco's plate.

"They are your favourite, right?" Potter asked and Draco felt himself blush.

"Yeah. How did you know?" Draco knew how. Sixth year. They noticed a lot about each other that year.

"I notice things," Potter smiled brightly.

Draco turned his flushed face towards the tables full of students. He registered before, that the slytherin table was ruefully empty. But then another thing at that table caught his eye. A small blonde Ravenclaw girl was sitting with a bunch of slytherin six-years, laughing at something. After scanning the table again, he found several hufflepuffs and even one young brave gryffindor at that table. Other tables weren't that different. Here and there, there were odd colours peeking through.

"You finally saw it, huh?" Potter leaned closer to him, practically whispering into his ear.

"How is that allowed?" Draco asked, considering if he should be fascinated or revolted. He settled on intrigued.

"We allowed it a few years back. I had words with Minerva and we both agreed the house separation was becoming a problem."

"And the houses just... went with it?"

Potter laughed softly to his ear: "Well... no. It was a slow process. But we are getting there."

He smiled fondly over the tables and continued:

"I wanted to end this stupid rivalry once and for all. They should be able to form frienships outside of their houses. Meaningfull frienships and relationships. No matter the house. It shouldn't matter, we are all people and we are all different. Our houses don't define us. Our deeds and I believe our friends do."

Draco looked at Potter sheepish smile in amazement. His emerald eyes were shining, like always when he talked about things that mattered to him and he was fidgetting with his hands again. What made him so nervous Draco didn’t know.

„You continue to amaze me,“ Draco said, truthfully.

„I just wanted them to know, they don’t have to be defined according to a house and are free to make their own choices. I needed to hear that when I was their age.“

Draco couldn’t stop the grin that settled on his face: „I get that. I needed to hear that as well.“

„We need to know we are loved no matter what, even the Slytherins. They had hard times in the beginning, but I guess most of them are okay now. Houses don’t matter in the end, it’s the people.“ Potter seemed to ease himself up now, after Draco’s words.

"So are you saying you are teaching these kids the power of love?" Draco chuckled, teasing him a little.

"It can save lives, you know?!" Potter hovered with his fork above Draco's plate and he batted him away.

"Certainly." Draco laughed as they forks crashed and then couldn't resist: "Potter, are you raising an army of love?"

"Ministry might certainly think that. It helped the first time, didn't it?" Potter finally gave up and lowered his fork.

Draco laughed carelessly. There were rumours at the Ministry about Potter literally trying to raise an army against them when they were in their fifth year. If Draco didn't live it himself, he didn't know what he would believe.

"I wanted to give these kids an opportunity to make friends in all the houses. Just like I did."

"It certainly helped you win a war." Draco smiled at him.

"Exactly." Potter's eyes shone brightly at the candlelight and Draco knew this was important. Somehow this was what defined Potter these days. Fighting for inclusivity, acceptance and love.

"But you took your time with the Slytherins," he grinned, provocatively.

"I got there in the end, didn't I?" Harry asked, eyes hopefully turned to Draco in some sort of a question. Draco knew all Potter's facial expressions and could identify emotions forming behind his eyes on the spot. But lately, he realised, he sometimes couldn't understand a word he was saying. Secretly ogling somebody from a distance and never talking to them might have had a part in it.

"I don't want anybody repeating our mistakes." he finally said, in a much quieter voice.

Draco looked at him, surprised and Potter took the opportunity to steal the last piece of the éclair from Draco's plate.

"Hey, eat your own damn Treacle tarts and leave the chocolate ones to me!"  Draco protested, relieved when he heard Potter laugh.

 

***

 

That night, they yet again changed Potter’s office for Draco’s living quarters. Potter was lazily laying sprawled across Draco’s couch, playing with the Quick-Quote-Quill and Draco was pouring the firewhisky. But it felt different, somehow. He was about to find out something, that seemed important. Maybe that was why Potter was stroking the soft blue feather instead of starting the conversation.

Draco considered if he should make notes and then decided against it.

“Do you know what a Horcrux is?” Potter suddenly blurted after long minutes of silence, looking at Draco from the couch.

Draco was sure, heard that word before. He tried to remember and a cold chill went down his spine: “How do you know that word?”

“Dumbledore,” said Harry pragmatically.

“Did he ever..”

It took a moment for Harry to understand what he was insinuating, “NO! God Draco, no.”

“Sorry,” Draco looked away from Harry’s horrified face with an apologetic nervous smile.

“Voldemort did.”

“What? When?”

“Before I was even born. Or that’s when he started.”

The atmosphere in the room got colder and Harry reached for the firewhisky.

“What do you mean that’s when he started? I mean I came across a book in our library in the manor, but from that, it seemed a rather quick process. Heinous, but quick.” Draco didn’t know if he was comfortable with this conversation. But he held Potter’s gaze when he turned to him. Something in the green eyes made him move from the armchair to the couch and sit beside him.

“He made six of them. Or so he thought,” Harry said, grimly and busied himself with his drink. He shuddered after he took the shot, but Draco was certain it wasn’t from the alcohol.

“We went to find them all that year. That’s what happened. We went on a quest of finding and destroying all the Horcruxes. Or rather the remaining, since two of them were already down.”

Draco felt a breath catch in his throat. That’s why he punished his father, Bellatrix, so many others...

“And you found them all. Before the battle,” it wasn’t a question, because Draco already knew the outcome.

“No. We found two others and managed to destroy one. We knew one was in the castle, somewhere. The other was with Voldemort.”

“What was it?” Draco leaned closer and whispered it, afraid to even speak about the item aloud.

“His snake,” Harry said a bit louder that Draco expected, which made him jump. Harry put a hand on his knee to steady him and it stayed there. Draco was afraid to even move now.

“Nagini?” The name sounded more like a curse from his lips.

Harry just nodded.

Draco put a hand on the hand resting on his knee and squeezed. Potter leaned closer.

„Will you run and tell the Ministry now?“ he asked, a bit bitterly.

„Doesn’t Shacklebot already know?“

Harry shook his head: „Only us three and Dumbledore knew. Nobody else. Not the Order, not Aurors. It was a secret job after all.“

Draco bitterly laughed to his glass and Potter made it fly up and pour them another one. 

„You know, it was really stupid not to tell anybody? What if something would have happened?“

Potter just held his gaze and took his hand from under his.

„Stupid, I know,“ he said finally.

„Then why did you do it?“

There was a bitter laugh: „I was seventeen, Draco. It seemed like a good idea back then.“

Draco reluctantly took the glass, that was tentatively flying around him.

„Yes, I’m sorry. Dumbledore should have told somebody. It wasn’t your fault.“

Potter took another shot. He seemed determined, on which Draco didn't know.

„I think Dumbledore had some precautions in place.“

„Did he?“ asked Draco, surprised: „Because it seems to me like he gambled it all on three barely aged up wizards. Which was stupid.“

„He gambled it all on a Chosen One,“ Potter said bitterly and took another shot. Draco reached to take the glass from him.

„Please, not even you believe that nonsense, do you?“

Potter sighed and dropped his head on his shoulder. The unexpected closeness surprised Draco, as Potter’s messy hair tingled his cheek.

„It’s all true, you know. There was a prophecy about me and him...“

So Potter started talking. About their fifth year, the way he could see to the monsters mind, the long nights and all the horrible stuff he saw. About that night in the Department of Mysteries. About Sibyll Trelawney and the prophecy. About Snape and his betrayal, that led that monsters to Potter’s doorstep and about Peter Pettigrew.

Draco listened intently and somewhere in the middle when Potters lips quivered talking about his godfather's death, Draco reached and took him around his shoulders, holding tightly for the remaining part of the night, telling him in a soft, soothing voice that it wasn’t his mistake. He was a child and it wasn’t fair, the things he lived through. Potter cried to his robes like a child and Draco could only hold him, wishing that he could do so much more back then.

 

***

 

He woke up on his sofa, tasting like firewhisky and with sleeping Potter plastered on him. They somehow managed to drink or cry themselves to sleep, Draco wasn’t really sure. He just knew he was holding Potter now around his middle and the Gryffindor was breathing against his neck. He couldn’t move and didn’t want to.

It was comforting, having Potter so close. He was waiting for the freakout to ruin it and it didn’t come. The warmth and weight of his body had more of a calming presence.

After lying there maybe for another half-hour, Harry started stirring.

The movement was a bit awkard because Potter’s first reaction to waking up was stretch and he managed to connect his hand with Draco’s nose. It wasn’t violent, just unpleasant.

That seemed to penetrate Potter’s head, that he wasn’t indeed lying in his own bed. Rather, he was lying on another person. He stilled and froze.

„Comfortable?“ Draco asked amused and his voice came out huskier than he intended. It was Potter’s damn fit body sprawled on him like that, now so tensed.

Potter seemed to relax a little. He curled on Draco like a cat and a hand found his robe, he was still wearing. Potter buried his finger in the fabric, pulling himself closer to his body.

„Uhm,“ he only purred. Draco wanted to kick him. Or- something.

„I’m not a pillow, Potter!“ Draco murmured with a bit of bite in his words.

„Could have fooled me,“ Potter snapped back, but reluctantly stood up. There was something resembling embarrassment in the gleam of his eye.

„We missed breakfast.“ He informed him, looking at his wristwatch.

„It’s Saturday, stop fretting,“ Draco buried his face in the sofa, longing for more sleep. He wasn't good with mornings. In fact, he was terrible and it usually resulted in mushy, incoherent mumbling and behaviour he would later resent.

„Get yourself functioning and meet me at the research wing in an hour. Bring coffee.“ Potter hastily brushed his robes, as if he was trying to get rid of the evidence of his incoming walk of shame. The robes were even worse for it since they were crumpled and sticking at odd ends after Potter was done with his „improvements“.

„I’m not a house elf,“ Draco laughed, looking at Potter fighting with his garment.

„Doesn’t matter,“ Potter decided to shed the robes and remained standing only in jeans and a shirt. He threw the robe across Draco like a blanket.

„Uhm...“ Draco didn’t fight him on the piece of clothing he was given. He simply pulled it closer and buried himself in it. Before he could catch himself and realise, how embarrassing it must have looked, the doors behind Potter clicked.

He sighed and pulled the robe covering him closer. It smelled like Potter and that was nice. He drifted back to sleep.

 

***

He was half an hour late to the meeting and forgot about the coffee. It didn’t matter since Potter already had two steaming mugs ready and there was a projection cast again across one of the walls.

„Thank you,“ Draco took one of the mugs from Potter with a small smile and inhaled the coffee.

„Today’s the day, I hope,“ Potter – Harry was smiling. Draco looked reluctantly at the projection, but the want to make Harry Potter smile was stronger. He took a careful sip from his coffee and the stood under the reader.

„If everything goes right, you should be able to cast something resembling a corporeal Patronus. It will be very bright on the reader, but I set up another charm that will allow us to watch it again and slower. Got that idea from muggle machines, if you can believe it.“

Potter was grinning. What got him into the amazing mood, Draco had no idea. 

Draco rolled his wand between his fingers. He was sure, he could cast a corporeal Patronus. Something in him seemed to clear recently and he was more motivated to get out of his bed and actually do things. He even laughed these days, and that was something he didn’t know he missed before.

What scared him, however, was the actual form of his Patronus. He knew the theory around the spell. It was a personal thing, corporeal Patronus. Almost as personal as reading one’s magical signature. The Patronuses sometimes changed according to the happiest memories that the person used, especially if the memories were tied to a loved one. So Draco was reluctant to cast the spell, in fear that a majestic stag would simply erupt from his wand. Because that would be the end of it.

If he ever had any chance of befriending Harry Potter, he needed his Patronus to not match his.

„C’mon Draco, you can do it,“ Potter’s encouraging words that came from behind his mug, sprang him back to reality. Potter was beaming, steam from the coffee curling his hair more.

Draco got a firmer grip on his wand. His mind started drifting around the memories of Potter. He remembered last night, how Potter held to him through the night. The smell of him. The heat.

 _Please change the form, I beg you, please don’t be a stag,_ he muttered in his head, as he made the movement and almost whispered the spell. He hoped for a sliver of smoke.

Instead, something big erupted from his wand and landed in front of him. The light from the spell and the projection almost blinded him.

Then he heard the hearty laughter and his eyes turned from the projection to Potter.

He was laughing so hard, he spiled coffee across the front of his robes and seemed not able to catch his breath.

Draco turned back to his Patronus and his lips quivered upwards immediately.

Across from him, a giant silver lion was walking around in circles.

„This is brilliant,“ whispered Potter, laughter still in his voice.

„Shut up,“ Draco snapped back, but there was a chuckle breaking the words apart.

„Oh my, I need to make a picture of this. This is priceless.“ Potter finally set his mug down and took a few steps towards the Patronus.

Draco had no idea how it would react, but seeing Potter get so close to the giant silver cat made his heart quiver with fear. The Patronus looked at him, puzzled like he was conveying _You really think I would hurt him?_

Potter then reached his hand and the lion snuggled to it like he was real. Potter’s hand went right through it, but he seemed satisfied.

„Oh my Merlin, I love it,“ he laughed softly.

 _Good_ , thought Draco, _because he is you_


	5. Press Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate, phone calls and press

It was one of few days when it wasn’t raining - a perfect November Sunday when Potter showed at his doorstep in a thick cloak and his old Gryffindor scarf fastened around his neck.

„Are you going to Siberia anytime soon?“ Draco asked as he opened the door, chuckling for himself.

„It’s bloody cold out, Draco!“ exclaimed Potter, when he managed to free his mouth from under the scarf. Draco looked at the feeble sun outside his windows.

„Then why are you going out?“ He asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

„We are going out. Get dressed.“

„Where exactly?“ Draco asked, but was already pulling out his cloak and a scarf from his closet at the doors. He chose the Slytherin scarf just for the old time’s sake. Definitely not to match the bundle of Gryffindor clothing standing on his doorstep.

„Hogsmeade. I need to do some shopping and you wanted to get into contact with Blaise.“

Potter’s smile was infectious, so Draco smiled as well. He missed Blaise

„Let’s go then,“ he said and fastened the scarf around his neck. Potter laughed when he saw it and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

It was indeed a very cold day, despite the reluctant sun trying to peek around the clouds. Potter’s shopping turned out to be a trip to Honeydukes.

„I tend to give treats as well as points if somebody is excelling in lessons,“ he explained as Draco inquired about the copious amounts of sweets he was buying. The sales person seemed to already know his usual order and threw in some additional peppermints and sugar quills as a treat. Apparently, these were Potter’s favourite.

Draco used this opportunity to replenish some stationery since Potter got used to borrowing Draco’s expensive red ink for grading essays on his sofa. Instead of reprimanding him about it, he bought two more bottles.

„You know, I heard they make an amazing hot chocolate in that new café they opened down the road,“ said Harry, as they stepped out from Quills & Frills, fastening their scarfs once more.

„I could use something warm,“ Draco chimed, searching his cloak for gloves. It was really freezing out. They started walking toward’s the café & chocolaterie rather briskly, their breaths forming clouds in front of them.

Despite, or perhaps because of the weather, the place was almost deserted. Only two tables by the windows were taken. One by a young pair of wizards, that didn’t spare them second looks, when they entered, the other by an older pair. The witch's eyes widened when they entered and she started whispering something to the older wizard by her side.

„Let’s take something in the back.“ Potter gently touched his arm and navigated him towards a table, that was tucked away, hidden from view by the main bar.

They sat down, stripping the heavy cloaks from their shoulders. The inside of the chocolate shop was warm and cosy.

By the time they were seated on the comfortable cushiony chairs, a pudgy witch appeared with a menu and a dazzling smile.

„Mr Potter, what a pleasure to have you here! Welcome to my shop, I’m Agatha Belfast...“

She proceeded to recount the history of her family and how they got into the chocolate business. Draco clocked out of the conversation after the second sentence and instead shifted his focus on Potter next to him, nodding politely and awkwardly at the woman’s life story. He was biting his bottom lip now, fidgeting with his hand, ready to finally take the menus out of her hand and busy himself with reading it. Draco reached and covered his fingers with a palm to stop them from their jigged movement.

There was a moment, where the witch stopped talking and just blinked several times, stunned. Harry curled his fingers around Draco’s palm and squeezed, smiling dazzlingly at the witch: „Can we have the menus now?“

„Of-of course. Here.“ She basically threw them on the table, turning abruptly, hurrying back behind the bar. Draco followed her nervous walk back and then beamed at Harry. Potter was silently shaking with laughter.

„That face,“ Draco said, holding out the laughter that was bubbling in his stomach and threatening to spill over and flood the room.

„I hope she will breathe it out quickly and come take our order,“ Harry pried one hand free and reached for the menu. Draco looked at the other hand, still clasping his and considered if he should remove it, but decided against it. He was in Hogsmeade with Harry Potter, he could afford some indulgence.

The menu had chocolate and coffee from all around the world. There were delightful Irish coffee’s, that apparently included a small leprechaun dancing atop of all the whipped cream, dark chocolates that had a peculiar blinking eye at the bottom of the cup and as the photo suggested, Dragon Caramel Delight included a small dragon breathing fire and keeping your drink warm.

Draco delightfully settled on hazelnut chocolate, while Harry contemplated which of the 20 white chocolate drinks he could go for.

„White chocolate doesn’t even constitute as chocolate Potter, seriously!“ Draco made a disgusted face over his choices. Potter simply squeezed his hand, that he was still holding onto and not letting go. Warmth spread through Draco’s body, as the green eyes beamed at him.

„Mind your own business Malfoy,“ he retorted sardonically, sticking out the tip of his very pink tongue. Draco had to bit any response back since he didn’t trust his voice anymore.

The witch was back after a moment, very matter-of-factly taking their orders. When she finally left, Draco waited for Potter to let go, of his hand and end this charade, but he didn’t seem to even notice, he was still holding onto Draco. He was now running a thumb up and down the back of Draco’s hand. Draco involuntarily shuddered over that gesture.

The chocolate floated to their tables without the witch and when it appeared, Draco regretted his choice. His hazelnut chocolate was boring, only emitting a puff of smoke and hazelnut aroma around him. Harry’s chocolate looked so much better, despite it being white chocolate.

There was a giant serving of whipped cream at the top with some kind of sparkling topping that glistened like snow in the sun. Around the glass, there were frosted snowflakes despite the drink being hot and steaming.

Harry must have noticed his stares, because he let go of his hand, to reach for the mug and a spoon: „You want to taste this one?“

Draco smiled rather shyly, but noded, attacking Harry’s mug with his own spoon. The white chocolate was divine and the snowy topping was chilled like ice, contrasting with the hot drink in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste.

When he finally opened them, Potter was looking at him, Draco’s own chocolate now in front of him, a rim of brown liquid around his upper lip. He was quite openly staring at him.

„Well, at least I used a spoon!“ Draco pointed out, no real heat in the reprimand.

„Yeah, right, sure, sorry...“ Harry pushed the hazelnut chocolate back to Draco. There was an imprint of lips on one side.

Draco reluctantly returned the white chocolate back to Potter and took his to taste, positioning it precisely the way, so his lips would fit at the place, where Potter’s were just moment before.

Harry was staring again, openly, breathlessly, looking at Draco as he tasted the hazelnut chocolate. It was good, but the white one was better.

„You can have it, you know,“ Potter said after a while as if he was just woken up. He pushed his white chocolate to Draco.

„You want this one?“ Draco gestured to his cup.

„Yeah,“ there was a sheepish smile „That one is too sweet for me.“

Draco exchanged their cups with a small smile. He had the feeling, they will switch it around once more, since Potter now attacked some of the whipped cream and transferred it to the hazelnut chocolate.

There was a comfortable silence, as they both busied themselves with their respective drinks. Or rather, with each other’s drink.

„So... Plans for Christmas?“ asked Potter suddenly.

„I should be going back to London. And I plan to visit mother in France for Christmas day,“ Draco responded, fighting his way with Harry’s spoon over the whipped cream.

„So, are you going to report on your findings to the Ministry, then?“ There was something cold in Harry’s voice despite his playfulness with Draco and their spoon war raging over the table.

„No,“ said Draco simply, following Harry’s sneaky spoon with his gaze.

„Oh,“ The spoon stilled and Draco looked up to Harry’s eyes. They were sparkling in this lightning and his heart was suddenly too big for his chest, threatening to rip him in half and escape from his chest.

„Thanks,“ Harry said simply and his smile was soft and small, but the impact on Draco was enormous. He stilled for a moment, taking the sight of him and committing it to the memory.

Potter took that opportunity and reached for Draco’s mug with the remaining whipped cream to steal it.

„Hey!“ Draco reached for it, but his hand met Potter’s halfway through the table. Harry took his hand again, lacing their fingers together.

„You can have the rest!“ he said as nothing was happening, as if he was not squeezing Draco’s hand for dear life, and offered a spoon full of the remaining topping and whipped cream to Draco. He opened his mouth and let Harry feed him the sweet chocolate, not daring to look into his eyes. Instead, his eyes were at their hands, clasped firmly over the table.

„There will be a staff Christmas party at the end of the term. It's kind of a social gathering of the year. Last year, when Sprout was leaving for good, letting Neville take over the position for good, they got plastered and started making Herbology-related karaoke versions of Christmas songs." Harry started an amused blaze in his eyes at that memory.

"That sounds like fun," Draco noted, not really sure that he was honest.

"You have no idea. Their re-rendition of Rudolf, the red nose Mandrake went down really well. I think I will add it to the newest edition of Hogwarts: The History!"

Draco laughed and Harry joined.

"So..." Harry started again, when they managed to catch their breaths: "You want to go with me this year?"

"Me?" Draco asked bewildered.

"Yes, you. Can't stay holed up in your chambers all the time until holidays!"

Draco scowled: "I started joining you for regular meals in the Great Hall, haven't I? Or did I hallucinate these?"

"No," Potter laughed again "But those aren't that much fun."

Draco carefully looked at him, then at their clasped hands at the table.

"Okay," he said finally.

"Okay?" Harry looked up at him, from the mug he was suddenly studying. He lit up.

"Okay," Draco agreed again. Potter beamed at him and it was a good look on him.

„I will pick you up the last day of term around nine. We do this thing after dinner when most students should be in their common rooms, just to be safe.“

Draco nodded and squeezed Harry’s hand. He squeezed back.

„So I promised you something,“ Harry started, reaching to his robe, to pull a small, round shiny rectangle with buttons. Draco saw a few of these things around the Ministry, especially in other departments. People charmed them to stay near their ear and talked to them, sometimes all day. It was the new big craze, it seemed.

"What is that?" Draco asked. He never really figured a name for those things.

"Telephone. I promised we can call Blaise when we are here, didn't we?"

"Oh, right. Blaise." Draco felt bad about forgetting all about it.

„I will need this,“ Potter gently pried his hand from Draco. He was squeezing it nervously, he just now realised and tried to hide his embarrassment in the mug of chocolate.

Potter was now pushing buttons on the device and then put it against his ear.  For a while, he was simply sitting as if waiting for the device to start working and then finally...

„Hi Blaise,“ Potter had that spark of amusement in his voice. Draco couldn’t hear what Blaise said at the other end, but Potter simply laughed. Draco could feel a soft rush of nervosity and excitement building inside him. He hasn’t spoken to Blaise in so long.

„No, I can assure you about that, but there’s somebody else who would like to talk to you.“

Potter put the device against Draco’s ear and Blaise’s deep and soothing voice echoed through it: „Hi Draco.“

„BLAISE!“ Draco exclaimed, rather loudly, since he wasn’t sure how the device would function. There was laughter at the other side of it and Potter put a finger against his lips for a split second in a shushing gesture, grinning at him.

„No need to yell Dray, I can hear you clearly,“ said Blaise’s voice amused.

„Oh, right,“ Draco felt like an idiot at that moment. More because he missed Harry’s finger on his lips, the yelling wasn’t that big of a problem.

„How are you?“ Blaise sounded warm and inviting, like something familiar and homey.

„Better,“ he said honestly. Having Potter’s scrutinizing look on him made him rather nervous when he talked to Blaise. Like he was somehow cheating on both of them. Which was stupid, because he wasn’t with any of them. Not anymore.

„Good. I’m sorry you can’t reach me by an owl or Floo, but I can’t have these means of communication since I’m trying to limit my contact with the wizarding world.“

„Why?“ asked Draco without thinking. He still didn’t understand Blaise’s decision.

„Father,“ Blaise breathed sadly. „He made quite a scene last time I saw him. Apparently, I’m not worthy of the name Zabini anymore.“

„I’m sorry, Blaise,“ breathed Draco shocked „Is it because of-„

„Me being gay, yes. But I’m good, Draco. More than good, I’m happy. And I swear I will make time and come to visit you soon, okay?“ Blaise sounded hopeful and Draco wished he could see him and make sure he was really okay.

„Harry will take good care of you in the meantime, I hope,“ there was something playful in Blaise’s voice now, that Draco didn’t quite understand.

„I miss you,“ Draco blurted. He didn’t mean to say it, but listening to Blaise’s voice made him nostalgic and sad. Those were simpler times when Blaise was there for him.

He made himself look at Harry, that was pretending to be busy with his chocolate.

„I miss you too, Draco. We will see each other soon. You could come to visit, we could go dancing to a club I know here. You love dancing.“

„I would love that,“ breathed Draco softly.

„Tell Potter to take you dancing in the meantime for me, okay?“ Blaise laughed.

„Like that’s ever gonna happen,“ blurted Draco, grinning.

„Did you ask?“ Blaise sounded like he stopped joking around.

„Yeah, no. I don’t need my ass hexed to oblivion.“ He laughed against the device. Blaise didn’t laugh at the other end.

„Just ask, Draco,“ he said instead.

„You are an idiot,“ Draco tried to return to the playfulness of the conversation, but his words hitched in his throat.

„That’s why you loved me. Okay, tell the scar-faced idiot I’m sending kisses. My lunch break is almost up, so I need to go.“

„Thanks, Blaise. I’m glad you are doing good.“ Draco abandoned all pretend on playful tone and his words came out rather longing and desperate.

„Talk to you soon, love, okay? Enjoy your date,“ and with that, the connection was lost.

„Well?“ Potter turned at him in an instant, as Draco removed the device from the vicinity of his ear.

„He sends... kisses?“ Draco was still a bit confused from the conversation, feeling that tidal wave of nostalgia wash over him. He just wanted to return to the castle, crawl to his bed and stay there.

„Of course he would,“ Harry laughed and took the phone. He started pushing buttons on it.

„What are you doing?“ asked Draco, intrigued.

„Sending him a text that he can kiss my ass.“ Harry laughed and then pocketed his phone.

„He would, you know,“ Draco looked at him pointedly „Kiss your ass, I mean.“

„Oooh, I know. He tried once. I hexed him to hell.“

Draco laughed, but something in him sank, as his mind provided an image of Harry and Blaise in an intimate embrace.

They stayed at the café for a little while, talking about Christmas and plans. It was mostly Potter talking because Draco didn’t really plan much for this holiday. He would return to his cold and empty apartment and maybe drink himself to sleep while reading a book. It was as good plan as any.

After they finished the chocolate and paid, they stood up, to get dressed, but stopped dead in their tracks, as Potter looked to the windows of the shop.

„Shit,“ he cursed under his breath. Draco followed his gaze and noticed a handful of wizards with cameras outside the shop. At least they had the decency to wait outside.

„Do you think your fan club in front called them?“ asked Draco, pointing at the table where the couple was sitting earlier and then shot not a very pleasant look to the paparazzi outside. Looking at them again, Draco judged it wasn’t their good manners that prevented them to enter, but some kind of spell that the owner of the shop must have cast. He felt a bit bad for his behaviour earlier.

„Does it matter? We will have to walk fast, can you do it? Or you could apparate to the gates and wait for me there?“ Harry was fastening his winter cloak now, not meeting his eyes.

„I’ll walk with you, if you want,“ Draco took his cloak from the chair, where it rested.

„Good,“ Harry finally turned his eyes to him „May I have another request?“

„Y-yes?“ Draco felt the word hitch in his throat. The way Harry was looking at him made him horribly flustered.

„Can I borrow your scarf?“

„What?“ Draco spat, looking at him absolutely bewildered. Harry was blushing now.

„I was looking for an opportunity to do this for a while now. It’s a way how to start a discussion about this, the whole house solidarity. You know, they keep calling me Gryffindor Golden Boy, right?“

Draco nodded, he knew. It was one of the more unoriginal nicknames.

„I just want to break that image a bit. This way they will have to use these photos because they don’t have anything else. It’s not like I’m asking you to put on my scarf. And you can say no!“

„No,“ Draco said quickly. Harry’s shy smile sagged „No I meant, no, yes... yes, you can take my scarf. And we can even switch if you want to!“

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he breathed rather too loudly.

Harry beamed at him. He reached for his scarf and proceeded to wrap it around Draco, which made Draco’s cheeks tingle with warmth. Then he reached for the old Slytherin scarf still draped over a chair and fastened it around his throat in a complicated but nice pattern, which made it even more visible. It looked good on Harry and his emerald eyes matched it perfectly.

„Let’s just go then,“ he smiled at Draco then and made a movement with his hand as if he was again gonna reach for his hand. At the last second, he seemed to change his mind and curved his hand back at his side.

Draco took a deep breath and followed Potter out of the doors. They moved quickly and Draco made an effort to keep his head down all the way through the street, not looking at the cameras and the faces reporters made when they saw him. He could hear the excitement he started because somebody yelled his name and then all hell broke loose, cameras flashing right in front of his face, questions being yelled at his direction.

Harry then grabbed his wrist and yanked him to walk faster. They basically run the last few streets to the walk to the castle and beyond the wards, where reporters couldn’t follow.

They parted without words at the main entrance, Potter heading to his chambers and Draco to his. He still had Harry’s scarf around his neck.

 

It was only the following morning when a stern looking owl delivered his morning Daily Prophet, his and Potter's photo plastered on the front page, that he realised exactly how the photos looked. Sharing each other's scarfs, Potter gripping his wrist and tugging him away, leaving a romantic café, they looked like a couple. Nervous guilt settled in his stomach looking at the newspaper, not daring to read the article accompanying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just hate it, when you take somebody on a date for hot chocolate and they still don't understand?   
> Hope you enjoyed this one. If you feel personally victimized by Draco Malfoy's oblivious ass, raise your hand in the comments ✋


	6. Stress Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's an invisibility cloak revealed and some muggle plants that make you feel funny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Soft drug use in this chapter.

As the November got progressively colder, Harry Potter was the warmth of Draco’s evening, he was searching for. And Potter provided. They were spending almost every night at the other’s company.

It was a Friday night, when Harry was sprawled on Draco’s sofa, grading some essays about one thing or other. Draco was reading a book in a chair opposite him, both immersed in their own work in companionable silence. Steaming tea was kept under a warming charm on the table and fire was crackling in the fireplace, keeping them company.  Draco was stirred from his reading when a gleaming red panda shot through the room, stopping in front of Harry and opened its mouth.

Draco watched fascinated from his desk, as the Patronus talked to Harry.

„Your saviour ass is requested in the greenhouse immediately. Take the eye-candy, there’s a lot. And take food.“

With these words, the Patronus disappeared into the mist and Draco was confronted only with Potter’s grinning face.

„What was that?“ he asked.

„That was Neville,“ Potter answered, laughing.

„Did something happen?“ Draco asked immediately, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to see that message.

„No,“ Harry said. „He just finished an experiment of sorts and wants me to test it. We will need food and some water.“

„Didn’t he request only your presence?“

 „He said to take you with me.“

„No, he didn’t!“

Potter fixed him with a pointed look. It took a minute to sink in.

„Oh,“ Draco said only and felt himself blush.

„Don’t worry, I will have talks with him about objectifying young, uncomfortable wizards,“ Harry said and closed the bottle of red ink he was using. Draco’s expensive ink.

„C’ mon, we need to raid the kitchen first.“

 

They took an obscene amount of food from the kitchens and then set on a path down to Greenhouses. However, before they descended the main gate, Potter put a hand around Draco’s middle and stopped him.

„We will need this tonight.“ He produced a heap of shimmering liquid-looking fabric.

„Is that-“

„Invisibility cloak,“ Potter smiled and threw it around them, enclosing them in the warmth of it.

„Since when do you have-„

„Since school and psst.“ Potter put a finger against his lips. A hand was still clutching his hip, navigating him forward.  

Suddenly, the cloak explained so many questions Draco still had about their school years. The fact, that it still worked was impressive.

Since they were both adults and Draco was quite tall, they needed to keep close and make small, shuffling steps to their feet won't be visible. Potter took very good care of the closeness with holding Draco’s body practically glued to his own.

„Why is this important?“ Draco whispered, pointing at the fabric enclosing them.

„Don’t want anybody to follow us and ask questions.“

Potter suddenly turned and stirred Draco towards a Greenhouse number 7. Longbottom was standing in its doors, looking excited and nervous, clearly waiting for them.

„Nev,“ Harry whispered and Neville looked relieved, when he took a step away from the doors, to let them in.

Once the doors closed behind them, heavy leafed plants moved to cover most of the doors and windows, so the greenhouse was basically impenetrable and Harry took the cloak off.

„Hi guys,“ Neville smiled and flicked his wand. Small, glittering bugs took flight, settling themselves on the leaves, covering the greenhouse with soft light tinted blue.

„Hi,“ Harry moved to hug Neville and set all the food and drinks they brought with them to a rather shabby, but clean table. Draco stood in the middle of the room feeling very out of place.

„Draco,“ Neville nodded to him, which surprised Draco and he nodded back.

„So Nev, think you got it this time?“ Harry asked, once again turning all the attention to him. But this time Draco didn’t mind. Illuminated by the soft light, standing there only in tight muggle jeans and what must have been some kind of a band t-shirt, he looked amazing and Draco needed to remind himself, to breath.  If he was gonna spend the evening with Harry here, he was royally fucked, because he looked- Well, he looked like Harry and that was enough for Draco's body to react.

„Yes and no. I created a strand that grows both the leaves that I need and the other ones. Problem is, they are different in colour, but that’s it. I need to test which part of the plant is which.“

Potter just noded.

„Excuse me, but what exactly did you create?“ Curiosity won over Draco. Both men turned to him, looking a bit uncomfortable.

„It’s for Luna,“ Neville said apologetically „It helps her sleep. It’s not illegal in the wizarding world.“

Potter only looked at his shoes.

„Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not my place,“ said Draco, a little concerned about the change in atmosphere.

„No, it’s-„ Neville went silent „It’s fine. She has trouble with nightmares. Can’t sleep after-„

He didn’t need to finish, Draco knew what would follow. He was never the same after the dungeons in Malfoy Manor. He only glimpsed what was going on down there and he had nightmares for several years. Lovegood lived through it.

„So Neville has been tinkering with this muggle plant that can help with these kinds of things. Problem is, the original plant has a few- side effect,“ Potter grinned and Longbottom grinned at him.

„So are we going to test it?“ Draco asked.

„Yes,“ said Longbottom.

„ _We_ are going to test it. I just took you, because it’s better to have a sound wizard supervising,“ said Harry and offered a small smile.

„So I’m not allowed to test it?“ Draco smirked, playing into his offended pride.

„Look,“ Potter exasperatedly pinched the bridge of his nose „It’s a muggle drug. One of them will send you to sleep immediately and the other one has some weird effects.“

„What effects? I can take it.“

„This one makes you more content and happy. Helps you to relax. But it can make you do some stupid stuff. Kind of like Felix Felicis,“ explained Longbottom.

„Now I want to try it!“

Harry and Longbottom exchanged a look and silent staring conversation seemed to be going on between them. Neville cocked up one eyebrow and Harry sighed and nodded, rolling his eyes.

„But you have been warned!“

Longbottom then handed them two potion bottles. One had a bright green colour, the other one was mutedly mustard.

„I want the green one!“ proclaimed Draco immediately.

„Fine, you guys take this one. I will try the other one. One should put us to immediate soundless sleep, the other one will have all the side-effects, maybe stronger than the normal strand. Don’t worry, only the harmless ones survived the breeding, so we shouldn’t be too worried about paranoia and the other stuff. I put a protection spell on the greenhouse, so it won’t let anybody in or out for an hour. By then, all the side-effects should be gone, but it can make you sleepy.“ Longbottom explained and then conjured a mattress on the dirty ground.

„Cheers Nev,“ Potter raised the green bottle to his lips. Longbottom followed.

They drank and Draco froze, making a small step next to Potter. Just in case it worked and he would go to sleep immediately. Just to catch him.

Nothing happened.

„Well, okay, I was expecting- „ Longbottom started, but before he could finish, legs buckled under him and he fell on the mattress like a sack of potatoes.

Potter laughed.

„Give it to me,“ Draco took the vial from his hands and took a sip. He waited. Then waited some more.

He couldn’t feel a thing.

Potter was next to Longbottom in an instant, jabbing his fingers to his sides. He didn’t even stir.

„It worked!“ he exclaimed happily rather loudly next to his sleeping co-worker.

„Did it?“ Draco still couldn’t feel anything. But Potter looked good and there was that endearing expression on his face, that was amazing. He wanted to curl around him like a cat.

Ok, maybe it worked a bit then.

Potter moved Longbottom to the side. The greenhouse had a nice, stable temperature, which didn’t worry Draco about Longbottom spending the night here. And since when did Draco care about Longbottom and his health?

Potter was now sitting at the big mattress, taking his shoes off for some reason. He tossed them behind him and something resembling vines snatched them mid-air and disappeared with it.

„You will need the shoes on our way back,“ retorted Draco and an involuntary giggle escaped his lips. He covered it with his hand.

„Relax,“ said Potter simply and reached a hand.

Draco took it and Potter tugged him to the mattress, into his arms. He melted to the hug and couldn't stop another giggle escaping his lips. He was cuddling Harry Potter next to his sleeping friend in a Hogwarts greenhouse. That was simply ridiculous.

Potter's hands were suddenly in his hair and he melted to the touch. Something in him relinquished control. He felt safe and good, more himself than he felt for the past years.

He felt free.

Harry’s breath was next to his ear now, as he tucked himself in his arms. He was practically lying on him, enclosed by Potter’s hands and now even his feet that crossed around Draco’s.

„This is amazing,“ Harry breathed and giggled. His voice sounded ethereal in the silence of the greenhouse. Draco suddenly wanted to conjure some music just to break the spell that Potter's voice had on him.

„You are amazing,“ Draco whispered and immediately clasped a hand to his mouth, considering if he should ever remove it. He didn’t intend to say that out loud.

„Likewise, Draco,“ Harry said, still playing with his hair. And it felt so good, Draco purred. 

Somehow, Potter didn’t mind Draco’s squirming in his arms. He didn’t let him go, simply wandlessly summoned some snacks and a bottle of pumpkin juice.

„So did you two do this before?“ Draco wanted to ask that since he found out what they were up to.

„We tested every plant Neville brought to us. Sometimes with Ron. Don’t tell that to Hermione,“ Hary giggled next to his ear rather loudly. It made Draco laugh in response.

„So you have been experimenting for a long time.“

„Some of them were truly awful. You can’t imagine. But yeah, they help to take my mind of off things. It’s good to get out of your own head sometimes. Not overthink.“

Draco nodded in agreement and reached for chocolate.

„Don’t go,“ Harry mumbled and reached for him. Draco laughed, as strong hands enclosed him and Potter practically pulled him into his lap.

„I just want something sweet,“ he whispered, because talking out loud suddenly felt inappropriate.

„I’m sweet!“ Harry exclaimed and the innocent smile was broken by a loud laugh that suddenly erupted from him.

„Merlin, that was bad, wasn’t it?“

Draco didn’t know if he was just dreaming, or Potter was really blushing.

„It was quite awfull,“ Draco agreed. _But I love you anyway_ , he thought. Fortunately, that part didn’t force its way through his lips.

„I will shut up now,“ Potter stuffed a whole chocolate frog into his mouth.

„No!“ Draco bellowed, so much louder than he expected.

„No?“ Potter quirked an eyebrow, mouth full of the frog, it’s leg still hanging out by the corner of his mouth. It made Draco melt into a puddle of giggles.

„You look like a madman,“ he proclaimed.

„Good!“ Potter swallowed the remaining chocolate. „You look good.“

„Oh my god, stop with the pickup lines!“

„You told me not to!“

Draco couldn’t stop laughing and it was all Potter’s fault.

„I meant don’t stop talking,“ he tried to relax his face into a more serious expression „I like talking to you.“

„Me too.“

Draco let go of his guard and snuggled closer, tangling his fingers in Harry’s shirt. He smelled like woods, mint and something very Harry. Everything about him smelled fantastic. They stayed snuggled for a moment before Draco spoke:

„You know, I’m not surprised that Lovegood has nightmares. I have them too, sometimes and I wasn’t a prisoner. Mother has them too.“

Something in that moment, or maybe the potion, made him finally relax enough to say it. Admitting just how broken he was has seemed like such a task before. But now, here, with Harry melting under his touch, it was okay. Maybe because it was almost ten years, or maybe because Draco felt like they would finally be okay from now on. Something changed, he could feel it, but couldn't yet name. Something like hope was stirring in his belly.

„It’s Luna for you,“ said Harry, pulling a bit away, but still not letting him go. He searched his face for a moment. „And it’s perfectly reasonable that you have nightmares. Just because you weren’t kidnapped per sé, doesn’t mean you were there on your own free will.“

„How do you know that?“ Asked Draco, desperation in his voice. He felt so guilty for so long, feeling like a broken thing. He had no right to be broken, he brought it all on himself, chose the wrong side. 

Potter eloped his hands around him tighter, but it wasn’t suffocating. If anybody else held him like that, Draco would panic. But somehow Harry made it sweet and safe.

„I know,“ he whispered to his hair and Draco had to close his eyes from that sensation. Harry’s husky voice ringed in his ears „I know because I saw your expression that night in the Manor. You were just as terrified as us. Maybe more, since you saw all the terrible things they did. But you managed to stand it all, you brave little idiot. You survived.“

And it felt great. Not just the sensation of being held, but the words of comfort. It wasn’t pity, what was reflecting in Harry’s voice. It was understanding and recognition of his suffering. Somebody on the world understood, that he had the right to be broken too.

„We survived,“ Draco said after what must have been a long pause, as he was lost in his head for a while. It didn’t feel awkward to be silent with Harry. It felt right.

„Yes,“ Harry breathed. His palm traced Draco’s left arm and he shuddered and tried to pull away, but Potter was holding onto him firmly. He slipped his fingers past Draco’s sleeve and stopped for a moment at his pulse point on his writs. The touch was strangely erotic and Draco felt the mark under his shirt swell and pulse. It was inactive for a long time now, but it would come to life when Draco interacted with something full of old magic as if it was pulled to it. It was like it was searching for something else to latch to, to be part of a circle of power again and tie Draco to another powerfull force that could claim him. He hated it usually, especially if it happened around some dark, twisted magical object. It was freaking him out.

But not tonight. Tonight, the mark was coming alive under Harry’s touch and he wanted to be claimed so badly at that moment, it hurt.

Potter moved his fingers up and finally touched the slightly raised skin around the ugly mark. He traced it, caressed it, patted it. The mark kept swelling and burning under his curious touch.

„Because that’s what wars create. Not winners or losers, but survivors. It’s absolutely pointless,“ Harry finished his thought, whispering into Draco’s ear.

Draco turned his face to Harry then, realising just how close he was. He could feel his face flush, as Potter flattened his palm against the mark and it burned at that moment, but not with pain, but with a promise and determination to latch itself to the powerful magic cruising in Harry’s veins.

A moan escaped his lips, as the palm moved across his forearm. Harry laughed softly against his ear and repeated the movement with a light touch of his fingers. Draco felt breath hitch in his throat, making an incoherent noise.

And as he stared to his emerald eyes, he pondered when this Gryffindor got so wise and so wicked.

*

He woke up in his bed the next morning, not remembering how he got in. His robe was neatly folded on an armchair next to his bed and his shoes were just under the bed. There was a warming charm covering the bed, a strong one. Harry was nowhere to be found.


	7. Seeking Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an owl from the Ministry and decisions need to be made quickly.

He felt rather awkward after their night with Neville, facing Harry that evening. Mostly because he didn’t remember a thing after Harry stopped playing with the mark. Somehow, the memories decided to run away from him, which Draco hated. He was so used to be in control, that this small blip terrified him.

But Harry was there, acting as nothing has happened and he decided to believe it and hoped, he didn’t say anything embarrassing. That would be the end of it.

They settled into their accompanying silence on the couch, Harry proclaiming, that he had papers to grade and Draco just settled next to him with a book.

He noticed some time ago, that they got completely sidetracked from their talks and the information Draco was supposed to obtain, and their evenings started being more relaxed, spent in chatter about life. Potter sometimes ate dinner with him, instead of dragging him to the Great Hall, which was also nice.

Somewhere in the middle of grading papers and reading all the stupid answers that made him chuckle aloud to Draco, Harry summoned a bottle of fire-whisky and two glasses for them.

„It’s before dinner, Harry.“ Draco pointed out.

„We can eat here,“ Harry retorted and took a sip from his glass. Draco didn’t follow him.

„Ok, what is it this time?“ he asked with a sight.

„I don’t know what you mean?“ said Potter, but the innocent expression looked wrong on his face.

“Really?” Draco asked with his brows high “You drink if you need to talk about something real, or when you are upset or unsure to add yourself some courage. So which one is it, out with it!”

Harry sighed then and drank the rest of his glass.

„I’m sorry,“ he blurted after a moment of silence, already pouring himself another drink.

„Did you do something I’m not aware of, that you should apologize for?“ Draco could feel his heart in his throat, suffocating him, when last night immediately came to his mind. Did Potter punch him, when he blurted something stupid?

„Yes, and no,“ Harry had a sheepish smile on his lips „I’m not sure if you remember, but I touched your mark yesterday and you kind of...“

Oh god, he did something embarrassing, didn’t he. He could remember the heat that enclosed him when Potter touched him. Did he try to kiss him?

„-kind of passed out. So I took you here. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have toyed with that thing.“

„I DID WHAT?“ Draco shrieked. He actually shrieked. He immediately clasped both hands over his mouth.

„I think it was a bit too much on you. I don’t know why I did it, I could feel the heat and the pull of the mark like it was reaching for something in me, so I played with that magic a little and you just..“

Potter was pink in his face, studying the now-empty glass in his hand.

„I remember that. I don’t remember that I passed out!“ Draco was panicking inside a bit.

„Yes, I was not expecting that. I kind of freaked out, tried to wake up Neville, took you here and kind of looked over you, in case I needed to take you to Pomfrey. I wanted to avoid that since – well, you had a drug in your system. Not illegal drug per sé, but still a drug, and this is a campus. I’m really sorry.“

Draco didn’t know if he wanted to scream or laugh. He didn’t do anything stupid after all, he just passed out and somehow that was equally embarrassing.

„I’m sorry I freaked you out. It just does that sometimes, wants to connect with some powerful magic. It’s designed to be connected to something, to connect me to something, so sometimes it wakes up like that.“

„So this happens a lot to you?“

„Sometimes, when I work at cases with very powerfull magical objects, it wants to latch on its strength,“ Draco admitted reluctantly.

„Do you usually pass out?“ Harry asked, a very troubled line appearing on his forehead.

„Oh, that. No. I think it was because-„ Draco went silent. Because I wasn’t fighting it this time, was the end of that sentence.

„Because it was me?“ Harry suggested and Draco nodded. Yes, let’s go with that.

„It still doesn’t make it any less dangerous. What if something manages to activate it one day?“

It wasn’t like Draco didn’t think about it, he did. He even borrowed countless books on ancient magical marks and ownership curses but didn’t find anything remotely helpful. He wasn’t even able to identify the origin of the curse. It was an ancient binding ritual, that lay ownership over him to a caster, or in this case any magic powerful enough to claim the mark again. But that’s all he knew.

„I could- I could look into it if you want me to.“ Harry said after a while. Draco noticed, that he was pouring another drink for himself.

„Do you think you will be able to find anything?“ Draco asked, intrigued. Normally, he would lash out on anybody, who even dared to speak about it, this was his problem and his problem alone. Something in Harry, however, looked so vulnerable and earnest, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

„I spend enough time in Voldemort’s twisted mind to know how he thinks. Plus I have a lot of Dumbledore’s old books, that I could borrow. It’s worth a shot!“

Draco smiled and then stopped himself: „What do you mean you spend time in Voldemort’s mind?!“

Harry’s smile sagged, as he looked at him, his face suddenly very serious: „Not now, Draco.“

„Yes now, what do you mean?“ Draco took the glass from him. Harry reached for it again.

„This is not a story I want to be discussing this night.“

„Did he try to possess you or something?“ Draco asked, terrified.

„No. Not really. It’s a bit too complicated.“ He snatched the glass and downed it.

„Harry,“ Draco breathed and at that moment everything stilled. He noticed his mistake right away. That was the first time he called him Harry out loud. It was one thing playing with that familiarity inside his head and completely different say it out loud so bluntly.

Harry seemed to recover first and a smile bloomed on his face.

„Yes Draco?“ he asked in a sickly sweet voice.

“You should drink less,” Draco took the glass from his hand and set it on the table. He didn’t want to push more, he was walking a thin line as is.

“I’m not drinking that much,” Harry said reluctantly. Draco made a face at him. 

Potter sighed and waved a hand. Suddenly, there was steaming tea on the table instead. 

“How do you-?” Draco wondered  

“I have very close relationships with the house-elves,” Potter explained smiling. He had that smile, that he used when he talked about his friends. It warmed Draco’s heart. 

“Of course, you know that ungrateful elf of ours, don’t you? Dobby was it?”

Draco pretended like he didn’t know the name. But he remembered it well. Dobby was the only creature in Malfoy Manor that talked to him when his father was pulling long nights and his mother wasn’t in the mood. He missed the little creature terribly, although he was glad he got out of the house in time. 

Potter’s smile suddenly faltered: “Draco, you know that Dobby’s... dead. Right?”

Draco’s heart stopped. He didn’t know. He didn't want to know. There were some things he would rather romanticize in his head than to investigate further

“H-how?” His voice broke, which he didn’t intend. He didn’t want to show weakness when it came to a stupid house elf. 

“At the manor. He saved us. He apparated us out. But Bellatrix hit him with her dagger.“

Draco felt the breath caught in his throat. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have-“ he broke off. 

“Shouldn’t what?” Asked Harry, suddenly curious about his reaction. 

“Shouldn’t send him there that night.”

That was out. He never intended for him to find out. 

“Did you-?” Harry seemed stunned. 

“He knew the house inside and out. He was the only one who could get you out. Could- save you.” 

Harry was looking at him, then he reached and scooped him at a bone-crushing hug. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against Draco’s hair and Draco snuggled closer to him. It was comforting, being held like this by Harry Potter. 

“You know, I buried him after. I could take you there. If you wanted- pay your respects,” he continued. 

Draco only noded against Harry’s skin. He was taller than him, but he felt so tiny in his big arms. It calmed him a bit.

When he was sure, the tears won't come, he finally slowly pulled himself back, to look Harry in the eyes. They were glossy.  They didn’t speak, only looked at each other for a while. Then Draco closed his eyes and put his head against Potter’s chest. He needed to crouch a little, but he didn’t mind. Harry’s beating heart under his robes was all the comfort he needed. They sacrificed so much and yet came out alive.

„We should have dinner because you drank a lot in that short time,“ Draco mumbled against Potter’s robe after a while. His breathing has stilled now and he knew it was safe to look at him again.

„I think we should,“ Harry said but didn’t make any movement. Only when a delicious smell reached Draco he realised, what exactly Harry did.

„You need to tell me how you keep doing that,“ Draco laughed and extracted himself from Harry’s embrace.

„It’s staying my little secret for now, so I can see that stunned look on your face more!“ Harry laughed, imitating something that reminded Draco of a surprised fish, with big eyes and opened mouth.

„Oh shut up, I don’t look like that!“ he protested, patting Harry’s hands away, so he could at least pretend to mope.

„You sure do!“ Harry stood up, walking to the table that was now fully set, with cutlery and a few trays of food that were meant to share.

„As much as I appreciate all the elves and their cooking, sometimes I would kill for a bit of thai and muggle takeout,“ Harry observed, as he was serving himself from various dishes. When he was done, he had a mess on his plate, that didn’t look like any food they actually had.

 „Muggle food?“ Draco made a face of disgust, which was followed with a harsh look from Harry.

„You know, Blaise used to make the same face. Then I showed him how to order Chinese from his phone and he never looked back.“

Draco smiled, the thought of Blaise eating muggle food was somehow amusing and very comforting to him.

„You know, we could pop into London and visit them soon. I’m sure, they would love to introduce you to pizza!“

„Pizza is a weird name even for a muggle boyfriend,“ Draco said. Now it was Harry’s time to laugh.

„No, pizza is a dish Draco. Blaise’s boyfriend is named Vick.“

„Oh,“ he felt like an idiot and Harry was still laughing at him.

„You need some serious muggle education if I’m ever setting you free on Blaise again.“

And that’s how it all started, Harry hurling a bunch of books into his chambers. Some of theme were muggle books or books about muggle culture and some of them were old tombs that were almost turning to dust under Harry’s fingers. They spent their December evening leading up to Christmas in a silent company, reading.

 

***

It was a week before Christmas when Harry sighed and pushed the enormous book he was reading away from him. He removed his glasses then and pinched the bridge of his nose.

„We should take a break,“ Draco suggested, closing his book on muggle customs. He wasn’t that tired, but Harry looked absolutely exhausted.

„Yeah, good idea.“ Suddenly, there was a tea on the table and Draco only smiled over it. He proceeded to pour some for both of them.

„So did you find something?“ he asked, handing a cup to Harry, complete with milk and sugar, just like he knew Harry liked it.

„There are some interesting things about old rituals, but nothing that would help,“ Harry gestured to Draco’s left hand, as he spoke and Draco curled a hand over the spot, where the dark mark was hidden under the fabric. Harry just sighed over that defensive gesture and returned his glasses on his nose.

„If we don’t find anything, it’s okay, you know. I can live with this.“ Draco rubbed his forearm and wished he believed his words himself. But the last weeks gave him hope, especially when Harry found some very old books in Dumbledore’s collection, that were about binding techniques and curses, that could bind parts of a person’s will to the master. Nothing quite fitted the properties of the mark, especially since the curse didn’t break after the caster was dead. Instead, it was searching for another source of power, as if it was growing hungrier the more it went without its master.

„We will find something Draco,“ Harry reassured him and reached for his left hand as if he was yet again going to touch the mark. Draco could feel the skin around the mark prickling with excitement, as the curse itself sprung to life with the nearing hand.

They were interrupted by tapping on the windowsill. Harry turned first, startled. Draco followed his gaze to the window.

Behind the closed window, there was a very big, very angry looking owl, that was shooting pointed looks at them both.

Draco sighed and moved to open the window. He could feel the awakened dark mark moving around his arm.

To his surprise, the very angry owl only dropped the letter to his hands, once he opened the window and took flight immediately. It wasn't a good sign.

His hands trembled, as he started opening the familiar purple envelope with a ministry crest. He took the letter out and started reading, a very unnerving feeling settling in his stomach.

„Is everything okay?“ Harry’s hands were on his shoulders, as he read the last lines of the letter.

„They want me to show up for debriefing on the 28th.“ Draco said bitterly, turning to Harry.

„Then you should put your files in order,“ said Harry, suddenly taking his hands away from Draco. He missed that reassuring contact and hated himself for it. He had no claim over Harry and was not allowed to miss his touch. This was making the fragile friendship they were forming only more awkward in Draco’s mind

„I will have to do that,“ Draco sighed.

They looked at each other for a moment, something resembling anger in Harry’s eyes.

„That’s not fair, you know?“ Draco suddenly blurted.

„What’s not fair?“ Harry asked, frowning.

„You being angry at me for my work. It’s just work!“ Draco wanted to shake him. He needed Harry on his side, he always needed Harry on his side.

Harry simply turned away from him, avoiding his gaze. That made Draco even angrier.

"You know what I think? I think you want answers as much as we do. If not more,“ Draco spat, finally snapping.

Harry just sighed and: "I'm not pretending I don't. But I guess we are asking fundamentally different questions.“ Harry was pinching the bridge of his nose now in a very tired gesture.

Draco cocked an eyebrow on him: "Which questions would that be?"

"My questions is _how is it possibl_ e and you people just want to know how you can recreate it and use it again."

"What is wrong with wanting to put that kind of protection to good use?" Draco was honestly confused, as Harry's features gone harder. 

"My mother died to protect me and that sealed in a magical barrier over me. Do you really think it would be so easy to recreate?"

Draco took a step towards him, reaching a hand for his shoulder and then stopped himself and let it slide down. There was something more to it, not just the convenience to the spell, and Draco thought he was finally starting to understand.

"They are not doing any of that. I think they just want to understand. In case it's... needed." He wanted Harry to look at him, so he reached for his hand. He needed him to understand why it was important. But was it anymore? He somehow found himself wanting to know more but accepting, that this wasn’t something he could simply recreate or use in any way. It was part of Harry and that was the only reason he wanted to know more, the greedy need for using that knowledge was gone.

"It won't be needed. We are done with wars."

Draco looked at him, puzzled: „How can you be sure?“

Potter just shook his head and looked down.

„I’m not. But I will do everything I can to make sure, there will not be another war. We need inclusion and education. The wizarding world needs to be less scared of Muggles and their technology. We need to start being inclusive and accept the world around us. I think we lived in the dark ages for a long time.“

Draco warmed and smiled at him, wanting nothing more than reach and simply hug the man in front of him, and hold him close. He was a visionary even after everything that happened to him. He had that hope, that radiated through him straight to Draco and somehow warmed him. And he was so heartbreakingly naive.

„What if it’s not enough?“

Harry looked at him with sad eyes.

„Then why did we fight, if we are going to do the same mistakes again?“

Draco had no answer to that question, so he just stepped towards Harry and let him put a hand across his arms. He pulled him closer and Draco felt safe and hopeful. Like there will never be another war as long as Harry Potter was teaching the world the same things he was teaching Draco; Love, compassion, respect.

„I don’t want to go there on the 28th,“ he whispered against Harry’s soft jumper.

„You will have to report back some time, even if you lie, don’t you?“ asked Harry.

„Yes, but they have means to find out if you are reporting back all the information. I can’t go back.“

Harry held him for a moment in silence. Then, he slowly peeled Draco from him, to look at him.

„What will they do, if you lie?“

Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, remembering what happened the last time, they had an Unspeakable breach the code. The Department of Mysteries had its own rules, some of them even the Minister didn’t know of.

„I could quit, but I would have to go there for a Final Debriefing.“

„Final debriefing?“

„They would take some of my memories, just enough so I won’t be able to breach some secrets. Unfortunately, I think it would involve memories from the past two months. I won’t give up those.“

Harry looked at him, something burning fiercely behind his spectacles. Draco could feel the chill creeping down his spine. Did he say too much, did he say something, that give out his feelings for this man?

„I won’t let them. You could stay here, for the time being, ask for asylum. I can talk to Minerva...“ he was babbling. Draco reached for him, to stop the word vomit.

„Harry, wait, I can’t be here forever. I need to return to London.“

„Not before I square it up with the Ministry.“

„You can’t keep running out and saving me!“ Draco yelled. He felt like a seventeen-year-old scared kid again, with Harry reaching out for him, pulling him out from the fire. He wanted the same thing he wanted back then, just curl against his body and never let go.

„Why not?“ Harry asked dumbstruck by the sudden outburst.

„I’m not your charity case,“ Draco spat.

Harry looked sad and tired for a moment before he reached for Draco and pulled him closer.

„No, but I care about you. This is what people that care about each other do, they help each other.“

„It’s always you helping me. I owe you so much,“ Draco said, but let himself be held. He could allow himself this small luxury.

„Is this about those stupid wizarding debts? I don’t care what the score is, Draco, I won’t use it against you.“ Harry mumbled, his lips now somewhere in his hair since Draco was crouching against him, curling to Harry for the warmth and protection.

„I think it’s more about pride at this point,“ Draco mumbled.

„Okay, let’s make a deal,“ Harry pushed away from him and Draco almost reached for his body again, to get the closeness and warmth back. But Harry was now holding him at arm's length, looking at him with determination: „Minerva was talking about getting the research wing into some kind of a structure. We would need an administrative force in that place if it should ever be a structured workplace. You worked in that field with Unspeakables, I know you have organized research groups that work. Would you take the job here? I know it’s a lot of work, to get that place running. You would need to create work processes and then implement them, so they work for every professor and higher-year students as well. Lot of hard work. Would that work with your stupidly endearing pride, you Slytherin git?“

Harry was smiling and Draco wanted to squeeze the life out of him with happiness because what Harry was suggesting sounded exciting.

„Yes,“ Draco said, smiling.

„I’ll talk to Minerva right away!“ Harry exclaimed, but instead of running out of the door, he pulled Draco to a tight hug.

 

***

 

He was supposed to talk to the Headmistress the following evening. Harry led him up the spiral staircase and straight into the Headmaster Office, not bothering to even knock before entering.

To Draco’s relief, the room was empty and quiet. Most of the portraits looked like they were dozing off, including the one portraying Severus Snape. The biggest one above McGonagall’s chair, where Albus Dumbledore would appear, was empty.

„Ok, I’m going to get her. Will you wait here?“ Harry crossed the room and reached for a door on his right side. Draco just nodded, as he saw Harry whisper a password and slip inside. He only quirked an eyebrow over him knowing the passwords to McGonagall’s chambers.

A soft humming from above him brought his attention back to the room.

The portrait, that appeared empty at first, was suddenly filled with a curious face, half-moon spectacles and bright blue eyes smiling at him down. Albus Dumbledore was standing very close, with his head peaking curiously down to Draco and humming.

At that moment, something vile and disgusting revolted in his stomach and he almost turned and run.

He would if the portrait didn’t start to speak:

„Draco, I was waiting for the moment you would appear here.“

Draco looked up to the portrait and right to the blue eyes: „You did?“

„Where Harry goes, you usually silently follow, isn’t that right my boy?“ He was smiling, but there was something dangerous about that smile, something that chilled Draco.

„I- I believe you are mistaken. Maybe you mean Weasley, or-“

„I’m not mistaken about this one. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, or rather Mrs Weasley now were there too, sure. But you were always two steps behind them. I’m just glad you are finally taking those two steps forward instead of back.“

The familiarity and the kind but condescending tone was making Draco sick. He looked at the door if Harry and McGonagall wouldn’t appear, but unfortunately, they didn’t.

„It only pains me, you turned so bitter Draco,“ Dumbledore said suddenly and Draco turned to him sharply.

„What can you know?“

„I followed your journey, my boy, I know what happened. Harry told me all about the war after it was over. And I often listen to talks in this office, Mr Jenkins was unusually rude to Minerva when they were negotiating the rules of your stay. If Harry wouldn’t say yes, I believe she would throw him right out with his demands.“

Draco was stunned to silence with that, his eyes trying to focus on anything else in the room, not the painting.

„You know, I believe you are too harsh on yourself, my boy. You know, I never blamed you for anything that happened in that tower, right?“

Draco shot a look at the painting. Something roared in him.

„Did you forgive yourself?“ he asked venom in his voice.

„Pardon?“ Dumbledore looked confused for a moment.

„Did you forgive yourself for organizing all of that elaborate plan that ended with Harry marching to Voldemort. Did you forgive yourself for manipulating a child for seven years to do your dirty job?!“

He knew he shouldn’t shout that loudly, but something was bubbling in him and he had no regard for himself anymore. He was angry, angry for Harry and everything this man did to that boy, that almost cost him his life. Draco despised Albus Dumbledore not because he was on the opposite side of the war, but because Dumbledore was even back than his own force of evil, the one manipulating all the chess pieces on the board, standing above all of them.

„Draco,“ the portrait said meekly, but Draco shook his head.

„You have no right to talk to me about forgiveness and followings when you made Harry follow your plan to the dot.“

„I- The plan was the only way. I apologized to Harry and now I apologize to you, Draco, for any grief I ever caused you, but there wasn’t any other option. If there would be, I would take it.“

„Of course there was! You could send anybody else to find all the Horcruxes, like the Ministry! No, you send three seventeen-years-olds instead. And then you made him fight and give himself to Voldemort. For what, for the satisfaction?!“

„I think you should ask Harry why he needed to die that day, Draco,“ said Albus Dumbledore grimly.

„He didn’t have to go! It’s a miracle he didn’t die that day, the protection was gone and you let him just WALK THERE!“ he was shouting at this point and for some reason, he didn’t care.

„Ask Harry what happened that night, Draco. I think you need to know the whole story, to understand I never wanted to harm him, I did all I could for him. But Harry needed to die that night.“

„BUT HE IS ALIVE!“ Draco screamed. He could feel the tingle of tears in his eyes, as panic was rising in him. He could see the broken body of Harry Potter in hands of Rubeus Hagrid, he could hear Voldemort’s laugh and the stench of blood hit his nostrils.  He was fighting, fighting against the memory of that fleeting moment he believed that Harry was dead. He never wanted to relive that and yet, here he was, back in that moment. Trapped in his head, he could see the limp way Harry was simply hanging from the giant’s arms. His lungs filled with sand and wouldn't draw any air. He was going to die with that memory echoing in his head. Right now, he was dying.

„That’s enough Albus,“ a voice echoed and warm hands wrapped around him. Draco leaned against the warmth, not sure how he ended up curled on the floor.

„I got you, Draco,“ soft voice in his ear, nimble fingers in his hair. He leaned into the touch and something warm and pillowy pressed against his temple.

„I’m sorry, Harry,“ said the voice of Albus Dumbledore sadly.

„You don’t get to be sorry,“ Harry growled, but his touch on Draco was still gentle and comforting.

Somebody slipped him a drink, it was a cold glass vial and Draco drank it. Before he knew it, the world went black.

 

***

 

When he woke, he was sure he was in a hospital wing. It was dimply lit, with only a few candles mostly situated around his bed. There was a warm hand under his own.

First, his eyes were drawn to a figure crouched on a chair next to him. Harry was sleeping, but he still rested his hand underneath Draco’s own, like he was squeezing it hard until the last moment the sleep claimed him. He had a deep frown between his brows even in sleep and Draco wanted to reach and smooth it away with a touch.

The movement by his right side caught his attention. Minerva McGonagall was coming to his bed with a very efficient walk a concerned expression on her face. Draco cowardly pulled his hand from Harry’s.

„Mr Malfoy, how are you feeling?“ She asked.

„What happened?“

„You had an- episode of sorts. You got some calming draft from Poppy, to stabilize you. I think the stress from your current situation was too much for you.“

Draco felt the panic wash him over, this time kept at bay by the potion. He remembered the talk with the portrait.

„We are very sorry, for this situation. I talked it over with Mr Potter and you are welcomed in the castle with its full protection if it’s needed. You also are welcomed to become our new Research Centre Administrator. It would grant you full responsibility for the research Wing. I suppose Harry already explained to you, that it’s in- rather delicate and unruled stated and would need some structure to be implemented.“

Draco only noded, something heavy settling in his stomach.

„I realise, that nothing about this situation is standard and we usually don’t recruit staff mid-semester, but from what I was told, this situation is delicate, Mr Malfoy, and the sooner you would sign those documents, the sooner you would be able to use your whole protection, that being on Hogwart’s staff grants you.“

„Protection?“ Draco looked confused.

„Yes, the castle has it’s own methods of protection in place. We added a few after- Well, nine years ago. Ministry is not allowed to interfere within these walls, so they would have no more legal power over you. Also, I would love to deliver your notice to Mr Jenkins personally, if that’s not a problem with you.“

„Where do I sign?“ Draco smiled, the panic in him melting away a bit.

„I have the paperwork ready, so tomorrow morning when you are discharged, I can send them over. Some of the magic will need to take hold first, so I would prefer if you spend most of the Christmas break here, just to be safe. I will arrange for a portkey to your mother’s apartment in France, as Harry informed me you were planning on visiting.“

She smiled at him, at it was such a wild concept for Draco, he almost thought for a moment, he dreamed this whole exchange.

„Thank you, Headmistress. I would appreciate the portkey.“ He noded.

„That’s settled then.“ She shot a look at Harry, sleeping on the chair next to them and took a step closer to Draco.

„One more thing, Mr Malfoy. I hope all this isn’t some elaborate Ministry plan and I whole-heartedly believe that your intentions are frank. For your own good, that is.“ She was pointedly looking at him, while saying it, her voice suddenly colder. Then she shot a look at Harry and her eyes softened.

„I would never do anything to hurt him,“ Draco said, deciding that the best way to approach this was the truth for once.

„Good, because he is doing all of this for you.“ She said and with those words, she turned and was heading out of the doors. Draco reached for Harry’s hand once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, not many chapters to go after this (if I don't get suddenly inspired). 
> 
> Leave me a comment if you enjoyed this fic and if you want to discuss this or any other topic further, come hang out at my [tumblr](https://elizabethisjustakitten.tumblr.com/)!


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